#every time this woman shows up in the morning instead of the night shift i know i'm about to have an awful fucking day

[just-in-cays]

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[kumkaniudaku]

Love Language

Summary: Terry and Patrice learn some tough lessons about love languages and communication.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: None

Despite carrying a hard exterior outside of their humble abode, Terrence Richmond was a lover above all else. 

If you asked his parents, they’d recall how affectionate he was as a boy and how he clung to his paternal grandmother for extra hugs and kisses when she was in town. Previous partners might be confused by any assertion that he was overly affectionate. Many hadn’t been fortunate enough to penetrate his tough-to-crack heart and experience the full extent of his tender side.

Patrice was a rarity. She’d been privy to his propensity for a lingering touch or a platonic cuddle since they were teens with raging hormones and secret feelings. But, now that they had grown older and much more romantically entangled, she’d found that what she thought was a ruse to induce sex was really his default setting.

He was born from love and carried every ounce of it in his body at all times. His desire to touch, feel, inhale, and embrace was always his priority. 

Keeping a hand on Patrice’s thigh while he scrolled through news headlines on his phone brought him peace. Rubbing her feet while they enjoyed a show on the couch at night was his favorite way to say I love you. Cuddling next to her before bed helped him communicate that he finally felt safe. Kisses came in abundance at no cost. Tight hugs were a no-brainer. He was her shadow. If given the option, he would gladly make a home inside her skin if it meant he’d never have to leave her side.

For the most part, she loved being showered with attention. But for a woman who was fiercely independent and easily over-stimulated, his constant displays of affection and need to be in her orbit at all times were immensely overwhelming. 

While he cozied up in the loving arms of the sandman, Patrice let the steady pelt of warm water against her back lull her into a fantasy of solitude in the park with a good book and a breeze tickling her nose. Soft light filtered through the small window above the primary bathroom’s shower, painting her deep dark skin with warm rays as she scrubbed away the previous night and prepared for a clean break.

If she were lucky, she could be halfway dressed by the time Terry’s alarm trilled in the next room to wake him for his weekend run. He’d be too caught off guard to stop her from leaving and her covert mission would be a success.

Unfortunately, he had an internal Patrice tracker that never allowed her to move more than 20 feet without his knowledge. She could hear the bed creak under his shifting weight on the other side of the door. His morning stretch came with a loud groan and the call of her name. 

“Treece, you up?” 

A vexed ‘duh’ came to her mind first but she shook the thought free. He didn’t deserve her attitude, even if he was the underlying cause. Instead, she called back with a simple, “Yeah. In the shower.” 

Patrice listened to Terry’s heavy feet beat against the floor on his journey to the bathroom. Her heart thumped wildly against her ribcage as he pushed open the door. His routine stop to pull back the curtain and make his presence known was inevitable, but she was struggling to muster excitement for his sweet smile and subsequent flurry of kisses. 

As expected, cool bathroom air mixed with the shower steam once a large hand pulled back her safe space’s partition and immediately reached to pull her as close as he could.

“Good morning,” he greeted between quick pecks on both cheeks before landing a few on her lips. “Why you up so early?” 

“I, uh, thought I started my period so I came to check.” 

A lie. She couldn’t explain that she needed a few uninterrupted minutes alone to feel like herself again or that she’d been doing so a lot more frequently than he’d noticed.

Terry mentally cycled through the day’s date and compared it to what he knew of her tracker. “It’s early. Is that from last night? If so, my bad.”

“Shit happens. Don’t worry about it too much. False alarm anyway.”  

“Mm, good to know. Gimme another kiss.” 

Terry’s words became a deep, sultry mumble against Patrice’s mouth as he lavished her with little monuments of his love. Most would see his display as a sure invitation to take their innocent encounter to another level. Terry wouldn’t be opposed, but he truly only meant to communicate how happy he was to be in his future wife’s presence. And, though he intended no harm, Patrice could feel her skin start to burn from too much attention.

The tickle of his growing facial hair against her jaw made her squirm to get out of his grasp.

“TJ, you’re making it cold in here,” she whined, attempting to push him away gently.

Terry chuckled. “I’m sorry, baby. You want me to get in?” 

“No, no, no, no.” Her repeated refusal made him pull back in confusion. A hint of sadness in his gaze made Patrice rush to correct herself. “I just need a moment alone. By myself. Please.”

She watched a host of emotions paint Terry’s face until he settled on feigned indifference and stepped back. She chewed her lip, nervously waiting for him to respond. 

“Oh. Okay, cool. I’ll um…I’ll give you some space then?”

“Thank you, honey. I’m almost done.”

“Mhm.”

Her attempt at sweetening her rejection with his favorite pet name proved unsuccessful as she watched him gather items to get ready in the guest bathroom. He was dejected and feeling the sting of her unrequited affection. 

Hurting him hurt Patrice even more, bringing forth the sting of fresh tears and a heavy heart. 

Fearing what might happen if she allowed his emotions to affect her own, she focused her attention on self-care and coaching herself through the bomb she’d eventually have to drop. 

Terry kept his word and remained out of sight while Patrice readied herself in their shared bedroom. When she stepped into the living room fully dressed and especially made up, eyed her from the kitchen with his brow lifted with a mix of admiration and subtle bewilderment. 

She put on her best kind smile and met him at the counter.

“Babe, Mrs. Wright next door was wondering if you could help her change the bulbs on her front and back porch. Today’s probably a good day, right,” she asked, attempting to sound as casual as possible.

“Uh, yeah. I guess I can get to it later.” He cocked his head to the side and quickly followed up. “Should I be skipping my run or what?” 

“Nope. Think I’m just gonna grab brunch and browse that cute little bookstore downtown. I’ll keep you posted.”

“You? Alone?” 

“Yep. All by myself.” Her Celine Dion impersonation did little to add levity to their back and forth. 

Terry stared at her blankly before dragging a hand down his face to reset. “Say, do we have a problem, baby? Did I do something to you?”

“What do you mean?” 

“Patrice, stop playin’ with me. You know what I mean. Why you actin’ like we just met or some shit?”

“I’m not!” 

“Let me kiss you then!” When she didn’t move to meet him halfway, he threw his hands up in exasperation. “See!”

Patrice took note of how his frustrated tone contrasted the sadness shifting his eyes to the grey-blue end of the spectrum. His lips were turned down into a bit of a pout as he looked down at her, awaiting an explanation for her sudden change of heart. 

She sighed and reached up to cup his face. “We’re good, Terry. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“So, what’s up? Talk to me.”

He was pleading for any insight into her sudden distance, nearly willing to block the door until she opened up. Her will to persevere for her own sake was waning. She had to create some distance quickly before she found herself waiting for him to shower and shave in preparation for yet another weekend together.

“Can we talk when I get back home? It’ll only be a couple of hours. I’ll keep you updated, and send you my location. Whatever you need to feel secure. Cool?” 

Sensing that he was being ouster no matter what he did, Terry sucked his bottom lip into his mouth before relenting. 

“Alright,” he whispered as if he were coming to terms with grave news. “Okay. Do what you gotta do.” 

Never a man for drawn-out monologues or poetic language, Terry remained silent as he grabbed his wallet from the counter and handed over his credit card for Patrice to use at her leisure. 

“You don’t have to do that.” His eyes flickered up to hers for a silent but firm reprimand. He wasn’t budging and she wasn’t interested in widening the rift between them. 

Patrice accepted his unspoken financial protection and his very vocal reminder to answer when he called before venturing out into the world as one-half of a pair for the first time in months. 

Her re-acclimation to solitude was slow. At least twice during her flea market excursion, she found herself preparing to turn to Terry and point out a painting or cute trinket that she wanted to bring home. Usually, he’d listen to her go on and on about some random piece’s beauty and try to convince him why it deserved a spot on the bookshelf. And every time he’d look on with a loving grin and accept her pitch without contest. Now, all she had was the little voice in the back of her head saying that she deserved at least one treat for show and tell. 

An early lunch at her favorite cafe was easier to enjoy. She people-watched for way too long outside on the patio, admiring outfits, hairstyles, and cute dogs while she sipped warm cider and read the romance novel she hadn’t had time to dive into. Each word created such vivid imagery in her head and she was giddy at the thought of sharing info from chapters four and five with Terry for his opinion. 

At the mall, she pursued racks of clothes and shelves of shoes at an excruciatingly slow pace because she could. She tried on dresses and analyzed her feet in every pair of heels that tickled her fancy until she settled on something that expertly showed off the definition she’d gained in her thighs and quads. 

By the time Patrice noticed the sun beginning to settle behind the horizon, she was exhausted yet excited to get back home and share her adventures with her man. Her car could barely settle in park before she was bounding from the front seat, up the front steps, and into the living room with a bright smile deepening the dimples in her cheeks and Terry’s favorite dinner for them to enjoy together. 

He watched from the recliner as she nearly skipped into the room, sitting up a little straighter when she stopped in the middle of the room waiting for his attention. 

“I’m home!” 

“Welcome back.” 

Patrice’s smile faltered at his flat reception. She attempted to recover. “Right. Um, did you eat yet? I picked up food from that BBQ pit you love. I made them cook the pulled chicken fresh and grabbed some extra sauce.”

“I ate a little earlier but I’ll get to it. Thank you.” 

“Of course. I’ll just put it on the stove?” 

“Sure.” 

Gobsmacked. Speechless. Patrice rocked back and forth on her heels, stumped for words while Terry shifted his attention back to the re-run of Star Trek on the television. 

Her ego was bruised. Shattered and slightly embarrassed, she scurried into the kitchen to lick her wounds but not before Terry caught the beginnings of tears shining in her eyes. Making her cry wasn’t in his cards. He’d only planned to make her sweat a little before opening the floor for a much-needed conversation. But he couldn’t stomach the bit any longer. 

He listened to her slide food containers into the oven before she attempted to rush past him with the rest of her bags and hide in the bedroom. 

“Treecey,” he called as he used the remote to shut off the television. Patrice stopped in her tracks and turned to face him with a look forlorn that it shocked him. He held out his hand and beckoned for her presence. “Come here. Come sit with me.”

She obliged, dropping her things on the ground to perch on the arm of his chair. He took a risk and interlaced his fingers with her to bring the back of her hand up to his mouth for a few quick kisses. Patrice welcomed his affection with a quiet sign as she settled into her spot. 

“You ready to talk,” he asked, lips pressed to her forearm while looking up at her with soft eyes. 

“Can I start?” 

“Floor is yours.”

Patrice sniffled to contain her emotions before starting. 

“This whole thing is new to me. I’ve never made it this far with a man and I damn sure haven’t lived with one. So, I’m sorry if I don’t get it right all the time. Two years is a long time to get used to being alone and, I guess I haven’t quite figured out how to be present for you and be present for myself. Sometimes, I just need a break, T. I need to recalibrate and enjoy the world on my own. I need time to miss you.” 

“I’m not giving you a lot of that, huh?” 

“I’m not giving myself a lot of that,” she asserted, shifting the blame. “You’re not responsible for me communicating my needs. But you’re so cute and I never wanna hurt your feelings. Which I guess I messed up this morning. I’m sorry.”

Terry released a quiet laugh. “You think I’m cute?” 

“That’s what you got from all that? I’m pouring my heart out right now!” 

“I’m joking! C’mon.” 

Before Patrice could go back into her metaphorical shell, he gently tugged her into his lap to cradle her like a baby. He rocked them back and forth for a few seconds and brushed the pad of his thumb across her tear-stained cheek. She closed her eyes to listen to his heartbeat. 

“You did hurt my feelings,” he admitted. “I appreciate the apology and I forgive you. I’m sorry for cramping your space so often. All I’ve ever wanted is for you to feel how much I love you. I guess I never considered that I can’t make up for lost time by holding you hostage in this house.” 

“I’m not gonna run away. I promise.” 

Patrice pulled him closer to her face by the back of his head, intensifying their eye contact.

Terry tightened his grip on her outer thigh and left the ghost of a kiss on her lips. “I know. Tell me when you need a break and it’s yours.”

“And you tell me if I’m being an asshole. Don’t let me run all over you. Unless you like that.”

“I kinda do but we should find out. This is our first disagreement, so I’m not sure, but I think this is the part where we have makeup sex.”

“That sounds good.” 

Patrice had long dissolved into a pool of desire. Every motion of his lips and warm hands keeping her in place with no effort had her attention in like a crystal ball. She’d done the best he could to contain herself, but her resolve was dwindling. 

Terry gave her a moment to lead an intimate kiss, appreciating being on the receiving end for the first time in almost a day. When it felt like she was pushing things past what their warn recliner could handle, he separated them. 

“Whaaaat,” Patrice whined as she threw a childing tantrum in his arms. 

“Let me hear about your day first. I missed you. Tell me everything.” 

His request caught her off guard but delighted her in equal measure. Patrice felt the butterflies in her stomach go into a tizzy at the way Terry looked at her, eagerly awaiting the full scoop. 

“Well, I went to my spot today to try the apple cider donuts.” 

“Yeah? Did you like it?” 

“Oh my God, yes. It was perfect. I got you one of those, too. Oh, I gotta tell you about my book! The last chapter was insane.” 

One question had turned Patrice into a yapper as she spilled the beans on every minute detail she could remember. Terry listened to her winding recollection of the day with intense focus, offering commentary where conversation allowed to mix with lingering smooches along her jaw. 

Eventually, they’d be intertwined and sharing the same breath with a singular goal in mind. For now, though, they’d happily bask in the mundanity of life together on the way to forever.

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[xxxdreamscapexxx]

Face the consequences

Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Word count: 9k

Summary: This is the second part of "Consequences" that many of you requested.

On the second day of your stay with your parents, your mother invites you and Wanda to a day out and you decide to use it as an opportunity to tease your girlfriend and push her buttons, resulting in a lesson you won't soon forget.

Warning: NSFW, 18+, lesbian relationship, oral, fingering, magic use, magical restraints, finger sucking, use of butt plug, pearl underwear, edging, ruined orgasms, pussy spanking, Mommy!Kink, top!Wanda, Bottom!Reader

This is a fic for all the people who asked me to be mean. I hope this will give you a glimpse of what that might look like.

Masterlist with all my works.

Waking up this morning, you felt pretty good. Sure, you wanted to sleep in a little, but the memory of your wild night with Wanda and her touch were more than enough to shift your priorities.

Unfortunately for you, instead of getting a mind-blowing orgasm, you had gotten edged, denied and then swiftly plugged and you had to watch Wanda get dressed, her smug smile taunting you, while you recovered. That was certainly not in your plans. But you couldn’t deny that you had asked for it. You should have known that pushing her buttons will get you a punishment. Just like you should have known that she wouldn’t take it easy on you the second time around.

When she had put on a pair of jeans and a clean shirt, Wanda rummaged through the clothes you had packed and handed you a skirt and a comfortable top, coaxing you up and helping you get dressed.

“You look beautiful, baby.” She smiled, kissing your cheek and offering you her hand, guiding you to the mirror, so you could take a look at yourself.

“Thank you.” You returned her smile shyly, nuzzling your face into her in front of the mirror, before making your way to your drawer, so you could pull out a pair of panties to wear.

“Oh, no, baby, I already picked out the perfect pair for you.” Wanda objected, taking the panties from your hands and inspecting them briefly, showing her clear displeasure at your choice, before putting them back with the rest of your clothes dismissively.

She gave you a wicked smirk, while she reached into the back pocket of her jeans, though you saw a brief flash of red in her eyes, that told you that whatever she had in mind, she had just conjured with her magic and you waited with bated breath for her to pull them out.

When she did, you gasped, making the woman’s smile grow even wider as she handed them to you. It was a black, lacy thong, though even a thong was a strong word for what she was handing you. It was ridiculously small and to your shock, the front of it included a string of white pearls which would end up right where your clit is.

“Wanda…” You breathed, your voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it, baby? A pretty thong for my pretty girl. And it will feel so good too.” She promised, taking it from your hands and bending down, so she could help you step into it.

Wanda dragged the soft lacy material up your thighs teasingly slowly and she took great pleasure in settling the pearls against your clit and securing the strings of the tiny thong around your waist. Her hand sneaked back, cupping your ass too, before she put a little pressure on the plug inside you, playing with it, until she made you moan. When she was done, she made you hold up your skirt, so she could step back and take a good look at you.

“Perfect.” She praised, offering you her hand. “Come on, walk around for me and tell me how it feels.” She encouraged, her eyes fixed on your body.

You did as you were told, shaky legs almost wobbling as you made a few steps around the room. The pearls quickly got covered in your wetness, copious amounts of your juices and Wanda’s cum from this morning making it easy for them to start sliding over your clit with every step you took, while the plug gave you a subtle, but undeniable feeling of being full. The combination of the two, working together to stimulate your body was impossible to ignore for a single second and you knew that you’d be a complete mess before you even finished breakfast.

“Well?” Wanda raised a brow at you. “How do you feel, baby?”

“So horny, Mommy.” You admitted, stepping into her arms and looking up at her pleadingly. “Please make it better, please. I promise to be so good.” You begged, leaning in to kiss her gently.

Your girlfriend accepted the kiss gladly, arms wrapping around you and pulling you flush against her, while she deepened it, her tongue playing with yours.

“Later, darling. Your parents are already waiting for us. Your mom has been cooking breakfast for a while. We can’t be rude and let her efforts go to waste.”

Knowing that you were ready to argue her point and insist, Wanda was quick to shush you with a finger to your lips and she gave you one last reassuring smile, before she started leading you towards the door.

“Be good for me today, and Mommy will make you feel better tonight.” She promised, before she opened the door and led you out, holding your hand as you started descending the stairs.

Walking down the stairs proved much harder than you expected, each step making the pearls move against your sensitive clit. The plug only added to that feeling, arousal spreading through your entire body and making you give Wanda yet another pleading look. God, you needed her so badly. But she ignored you, helping you walk down confidently and allowing you to lean on her the entire time.

Internally, she was elated. Her perfect girl, all sweet and cute in her outfit, looking so innocent. Only Wanda knew what was hiding underneath all that, knew how much she had dirtied you up just minutes ago and that knowledge made her feel so proud. No one else was allowed to see you the way she did, touch you the way she did, make you feel as good as she did. Only she could bring out this version of you and only she would ever get to enjoy it. She would make sure of it. She would make sure that you stay hers forever. She’d put a ring on your finger one day, she’ll marry you, make you the mother of her children… She knew all that without a shadow of a doubt. Even if it wasn’t the right time just yet, she was sure that it will all fall into place one day.

With thoughts such as these, she made her way into the dining room, greeting your father, who was already seated at the table. You followed her, steps slow and calculated, but nothing really helped. Each movement, each step, each time you squeezed your legs together, the pearls would put pressure on your clit or slide over it, adding to your arousal and desperation.

You greeted your father too, sitting gingerly at your usual spot at the table, feeling the plug nestle firmly into place, now that you were putting constant pressure on it. God, you needed a distraction. And just as if your mother had heard your internal prayer, she walked in, cheerful and sweet, carrying a tray of food that she left in the middle of the table.

“Good morning girls! How did you sleep?” She asked with a smile.

“Wonderful.” Wanda spoke up, smiling charmingly at your mother. “And the food looks amazing!” She complimented, her eyes scanning the food, as if trying to pick what she should eat first. “Y/N was so eager for breakfast too. I think she misses your cooking.” She added looking at you adoringly.

“Yeah, mom, everything looks so good.” You confirmed, nodding.

“Well, then what are you waiting for? Eat!” She encouraged, urging you to start filling your plates.

You shot Wanda a glare, while your mom was taking a seat. “I sure am eager, just not for breakfast.” You thought, shifting a little in your seat and squeezing your legs together with need. “And what else could you be hungry for?” Wanda’s voice came, seemingly from inside your head, the woman smirking at you knowingly, raising an eyebrow at you, while she took a sip of her orange juice. “Something… Filling.” You smirked back. “Like your cock, maybe?” You suggested. “You haven’t earned my cock, sweetie.” Wanda’s voice filled your head. “If you did, you wouldn’t be in your current predicament.” She said with an air of finality, pulling away from your thoughts, so the two of you could focus on the conversation your parents were trying to start.

Wanda was as charming as ever, your parents completely under her spell as they spoke, her smile growing wider with each passing minute. She wasn’t just happy that they genuinely liked her, though. She was also listening to you, your hazy, lustful thoughts like a whisper in the back of her head. You were driving yourself crazy. She didn’t even have to do any work, when you were doing all the teasing for her.

By the time breakfast was finished and your parents had left the two of you alone at the table, each one attending to their choirs, you were a mess. The small, lacy thong had soaked through, wetness coating your inner things and you were almost humping the chair for relief.

You looked so beautiful to Wanda like this, so precious. She wanted to pull you into her lap and cover you in kisses, to stroke your soft hair and soothe you. Truthfully, she wanted to keep you exactly like this, always. She wanted you desperate and needy, so she could admire you in this state, with your glossy eyes and your parted lips, with your fingers clinging to her and your mind clouded by thoughts of her and her alone. She wanted to come home and find you like this, to wake up to you, in this state, so she could have you whenever she wanted. Not that you would ever refuse her. You always wanted her, could never get enough of her, just as she could never have her fill of you. But this was different. You looked so vulnerable, so exposed… So ready for her taking. It’s really a shame that you had run your smart little mouth this morning. Otherwise, she might have taken you upstairs and fucked you. Then again, if she did, you wouldn’t be looking at her the way you currently did. And she never wanted that look to fade. It was almost like she was split in two. The part of her that loved to please you screamed at her to take you right now and make you cum until you can’t anymore. Then there was the other one… How could Wanda ever choose? Before she could, the kitchen door opened and your mother came in, pulling her from her thoughts.

“Girls, what would you say, if we go out for a bit? Just the three of us. You can help me do some shopping, since I haven’t been out in the shops in ages and then we can have lunch together at that restaurant we always used to go to? What do you say?” She offered with a smile.

“What about dad?” You asked, your eyebrows knitting together.

“He has some things to do this morning. You know him, he has to keep busy. But he’ll be fine.” Your mom assured you.

“Ok, we can go out.” You agreed, thinking that this could be a nice distraction.

“Well, then I’ll go get ready. I shouldn’t take too long.” She told you, already making her way upstairs.

“Let’s go get ready too.” Wanda offered, extending her hand to you and helping you up, her eyes sparkling.

She took you to your room with a smile, closing the door behind you, before her magic left you bare, almost making you squeal in surprise at the sudden action.

“Wanda!” You reprimanded, although you weren’t quite sure what for. That thong that she gave you had disappeared too and with it, the pressure against your clit, which now throbbed for attention.

“Don’t you want to clean up, before we go out, honey?” She asked, mischief clear in her voice.

She undressed hastily and led you to the small bathroom, getting the water just right, before she started to wash you, her hands roaming your body. It was just as teasing, having her naked, as she caressed you, her body pressed against yours under the stream of hot water.

It felt so familiar, having her take care of you like this. Her lips were gentle as she kissed you, her hands soothing and her touch light. Her hands would always roam, her hunger for you insatiable, so you thought nothing of it, when they landed on your ass, kneading. What you were surprised to feel, however, was when they started to play with the jewelled plug there, making you moan in desperation.

“Such a good girl.” She praised. “Are you enjoying your little toy, baby?” Wanda asked, her fingers putting a little more pressure on it. She could feel her own pussy twitch in response to her cruel game, making her even more excited for the night she had planned for you both. “Is it making my sweet girl all horny for Mommy?”

“Yes!” You hissed, your hips canting towards her in search for any pressure where you needed her most. “Need you so badly, Mommy. Please, make it better. Please. I’ve been good.”

“As pretty as you are, begging me like this, you know why Mommy can’t make it better.” She responded softly, as if explaining something very difficult to a child. “I have to teach you a lesson, my darling. You can’t go around, acting like you did last night.” She said in that same tone. “Your little plug should be a nice reminder.” She concluded. “And if you’re good, Mommy will reward you tonight.” She promised.

When you were out of the shower, Wanda used a soft towel to dry you off and picked out a comfortable outfit for you to wear, while shopping. She got dressed quickly, not wanting to make your mother wait. When the two of you were at the door of your room, ready to go out, she took your chin in her hand, turning your face towards her and making you look up at her eyes.

“You’re going to be good for me today, won’t you, love?” She asked with a firm tone.

“Yes, Mommy, I’ll be good.” You nodded, eyes sparkling.

And you meant to keep your word, you really did. For a little while, you even managed it. You had visited a few stores with Wanda and your mother, you even got through lunch without any major incidents. Well… You did, tease Wanda a little bit, licking your fingers clean in a way that could only be described as sinful, but you knew your girlfriend wouldn’t hold it against you. She could always tell when you were being playful and she had expected such behaviour from you.

On your way to the next store, she even leaned in close, whispering to you what a good girl you’re being for her, masking her praise with a soft kiss to your cheek.

It was going well and perhaps you should have left things as they are, but the constant stimulation, the subtle feeling of fullness, the growing need between your legs just wouldn’t give you peace. Being edged this morning and then left denied had only served to heighten your arousal and despite the shower you took before leaving home, your panties were soaked, clinging to your folds and reminding you of how badly you needed Wanda to make it better.

With that in mind, you grabbed the most daring dress you could find in the store and you went to the changing rooms, quickly putting it on and looking at yourself shortly in the mirror to check if it was truly going to have the effect you wanted. Then again, how could it not, since it was a mini black dress with a plunging V-shaped neckline that stopped just above your bra.

“Hey, Wanda!” You called out, peaking from the changing room to make sure she’s near. “Would you come in? Tell me what you think.” You said shortly, before hiding yourself.

You waited with bated breath, as you heard her steps approaching, fixing your hair, to make sure you looked pretty for her, when you heard her voice.

“Let me see, baby.” She said softly, pushing the door open and sneaking inside, only to be left with her mouth hanging open at the sight of you.

“It’s a nice dress, isn’t it?” You said, a wide smile tugging at your lips.

“As gorgeous as you look, my love, that dress is way too short.” She said, eyes still glued to your chest and to your barely covered thighs, though she was starting to recover.

“What do you mean, I think it fits nicely.” You objected, turning around to let her have a view of you from the back as well. The dress was hugging you nicely, the curve of your ass perfectly outlined by the dress.

“And where would you like to wear such a dress?” Wanda’s eyes narrowed, her breathing growing erratic as she watched you.

“Don’t we have that donation dinner soon? I still don’t have an outfit…” You suggested. You knew such a thought would not sit well with your girlfriend, who hated the thought of other people ogling what’s hers.

“You want to dress like that for those rich, old men the government is trying to get money from? I don’t think so… That’s way too short. But if you like it so much, we can get it and you can wear it for me at home.” She tried to reason with you. To her, this was a compromise and the best she was willing to offer, considering that she could see your panties every time you so much as leaned forwards.

“Well, that’s no fun…” You pouted, suddenly pulling the dress off of you and leaving it on the hanger. “I guess I’ll have to find something else.” You said, running your fingers through your hair to get it out of the way. “Perhaps I should start with some new underwear… These panties are practically soaked.” You pouted.

“Oh, are they?” Wanda gave you a sympathetic look that was entirely fake. “Let Mommy see.” She stepped closer, hands circling you and gliding over your body teasingly.

She wasted no time to claim your lips in a kiss, her tongue darting out to meet yours, while her hands travelled lower, nimble fingers sneaking under the waistband of your panties and between your folds, instantly feeling the wetness there.

“Oh, my poor, sweet girl.” She gasped, playing with your wetness and spreading it generously. “That must be so uncomfortable.” She mused, the tip of her finger barely dipping inside you, before she pulled out, refusing to give you any relief.

“Yes, Mommy, it’s so icky. I need you to make it better, please.” You pleaded.

“Oh, I know, baby, I know. Mommy will help you when we get back. For now, I need you to be good for me and get dressed.” She instructed, pulling her hand away entirely.

You pouted, letting out a frustrated groan and giving her one last pleading, hopeful look, before you gathered your clothes and started putting them on, while Wanda leaned against the changing room door with a smirk and she lazily licked her fingers clean. She walked out behind you, giving your ass a teasing pat, that only served to tease you further.

If you were in any other state of mind, you would have known that you should have left things as they are. But after being edged, denied, teased and left needy, you weren’t really thinking straight. And you thought that if you teased Wanda enough, she would finally give in and fuck you. If only you knew how foolish that was…

But you did it anyway. You went ahead to show her 3 more dresses, each more revealing than the last, having the audacity to actually walk out of the changing room wearing the last one, parading it around the store and letting all the other unsuspecting shoppers ogle you. That was strike one. Wanda’s eyes were dark and downright stormy, as she tried to keep her composure. Even your mother, who usually had an open mind, thought that your choice was too much.

Strike two came, when you called her into the changing room of another store, only for her to find you in your underwear, rubbing your pussy over the damp material of your panties.

“What do you think, baby? Is this a good look for me?” You asked boldly.

“It is.” She agreed, after getting over the initial shock. “But you should know better than to touch your pussy without my permission.” She reminded. “And you should be careful with your little displays.” She added as she stepped closer, pushing your hand away from your pussy, so she could replace it with her own, gentle fingers gliding over your clothed clit and making you moan. “Unless you’d like me leave you untouched tonight as well?” Wanda added, the threat clear in her voice and darkened eyes.

“No, Mommy, please. I just need you to make me feel good. Please?” You begged, clinging to her desperately, while she teased your pussy.

“If you want me to make it better, you’ll behave yourself.” Wanda said sternly, her hand patting your pussy softly in a way that reminded you of nights when her touch has been less than gentle.

Before you could say anything else, she walked away, leaving you to dress yourself with the very uncomfortable feeling of your full ass, aching pussy and damp underwear still clinging to you.

Thankfully, this was the last store you had on your list for the day and you all gathered your items and brought them to the check-out counter, happy to finally go home for the day. Wanda gathered all the items the two of you were buying, wanting to treat you and she handed them over to the cashier, who looked up to the two of you.

“Oh my God, Y/N is that you?” He exclaimed, his eyes lighting up.

“Allan, hi!” You greeted, suddenly recognizing him.

“You know, I thought I recognized you, when I saw a gorgeous woman walking around the store in that black dress. You looked amazing.” He complimented openly, bringing a tint of redness to your cheeks.

“Thank you.” You said softly, feeling Wanda step closer to you, pressing into your side protectively.

She gave the man an expectant look, her eyes fixated on his hands that didn’t seem to be scanning any of your items, but was instead flirting with you. A gesture he seemed to notice, but chose to ignore for the time being.

“How long has it been since high-school?” He continued. “You know, you’ve grown even more beautiful than I remember.” He said next, his words causing Wanda’s fists to close in annoyance. “Why don’t we go out some time?” He suggested.

While he was focused on you, he seemed to miss the way Wanda’s eyes flashed red for a brief second before she got a hold of her magic and reigned it in. Even so, she was deeply displeased at his attempts to flirt with you, her arm wrapping around you possessively and pulling you even closer to her body.

“Well…” You tried to think, looking for a polite way to turn him down.

“She has a girlfriend.” Wanda snapped, growing more impatient with each second. Her fingers dug into your side, refusing to let go and just the feeling of it told you that she had reached her limit. Strike three.

“Oh.” Allan suddenly looked between the two of you in shock, before he started to hurriedly scan your items.

“Yeah, Wanda and I are together.” You confirmed, a smile of genuine affection spreading over your features at the thought.

That seemed to make your girlfriend feel more at ease and her hold on you loosened, her eyes growing warmer at the recognition. Unfortunately for you, that wasn’t going to earn you any leniency. Not that you minded. You were really looking forward to seeing Wanda’s rougher side once more. Especially with the day you’ve been having.

Thankfully your shopping trip came to an end soon after and the three of you returned back to your parents’ house and you were allowed some respite. Wanda was even kind enough to allow you to remove the plug, seeing as you practically couldn’t stand still with how needy you’d gotten and she even cleaned you up, joining you in the shower and caressing you softly.

When you joined everyone downstairs you were forced to endure the moment you dreaded most, your mom showing Wanda all of your childhood albums, starting with your cutest baby pictures and moving forward, all the way to your graduation album.

By the time they were done discussing you and fawning over how precious you looked, your mom sharing way too many embarrassing stories, it was almost time for dinner and you thanked all your lucky stars that this day would soon be over and in just a few short hours, you’ll finally get what you’d been craving all day.

This time you had the good sense to refrain from pushing Wanda’s buttons further, and the two of you made it to your room without incident, which is why you thought it would be wise to pull her in for a kiss just as soon as your bedroom door closed.  

“I’ve been waiting for this all day.” You confess against her lips, your hands sneaking under her shirt quickly.

“Oh, I know. You caused quite the scenes today, because of that needy pussy.” Wanda smirked, walking you backwards towards the bed and watching you fall on it, just as soon as the backs of your legs hit the mattress.

“I don’t know what you mean.” You feigned innocence, batting your eyelashes at her.

“No?” Wanda scoffed. “Well, let me remind you, baby. Because you’ve been such a bad girl today.”

Your girlfriend undressed you quickly, your clothes and hers falling on the floor in rapid succession, until you were both bare. She was pleasantly surprised to find your panties already wet and her eyes zeroed in on the way a string of your arousal clung to them, as she was dragging them down your legs.

“So fucking wet for me already.” She gasped in awe, her fingers running through your wetness almost on instinct. She found it fascinating, how badly you wanted her, how wet you got for her, how much you needed her. “And so God damned beautiful.” She complimented with a sigh, eagerly entering you with a finger.

Your walls fluttered around her, welcoming her and you arched your back in pleasure.

“More, please Mommy.” You begged, your hips moving against Wanda’s hand eagerly, in search for relief. You needed her to move faster, to fuck you deeper, to stretch out your walls further, so you could feel full.

She obliged you without protest, calculating eyes following each movement you made, as she added another finger, your needy moans like music to her ears. Soon her tongue joined as well, swirling over your clit once and waiting for the litany of pleas, before she would do it again.

Considering the way she played with you, you should have known that it wouldn’t be so easy, but with her fingers buried deep inside you and her tongue swirling over your clit, it took no time at all, before you were ready to explode, the sensation overshadowing all rational thought. It would have been so sweet too. You could feel yourself getting to that glorious edge, your hands gripping the sheets and your back arching in anticipation of it, when Wanda’s mouth and tongue pulled away, looking up at you with a wide, devilish smirk.

“Are you close, baby?” She asked, her voice husky.

“Yes, I’m so close.” You nodded frantically. Her fingers twisted inside you, curling to hit your sweet spot while she spoke, getting you even closer.

“You know good girls ask for permission, when they want to come, don’t you?” She reminded with that same sweet tone, amusement and excitement glistening in her eyes.

“Oh God…” You moaned, when her fingers curled again. Your clit was throbbing and you knew that the slightest touch against it would set you off. “Please, Mommy, may I come? Please!” You begged, your eyes closing in anticipation of her tongue returning.

What came however, was Wanda’s deep, raspy chuckle. It sounded menacing, all of the amusement drained from it.

“Did you really think it would be that easy, sweetheart?” She asked, as she continued to fuck you with her fingers, her movements slow and calculated to keep you on the edge, without letting you fall over. “After everything you did today? After refusing to listen to Mommy, after parading yourself around the stores… Do you really think you deserve an orgasm, hm?”

“Mommy, please! I just wanted to play a little.” You tried to explain with a pout, your hips starting to cant up to meet Wanda’s teasing fingers. “Please, I need it so much.” You whined, your hands twisting the sheets under you in frustration.

“Is that so…” Wanda raised an eyebrow at you, smirking. “Well, now Mommy’s going to play a little too.” She said calmly, before wrapping her mouth around your clit again.

She made teasingly slow circles with her tongue, gliding it gently over your sensitive clit. She was having so much fun teasing you like this, working you up to the edge again.

“Mommy!” You squirmed under her. “Please, can I come? Please!” You begged once more, but Wanda hurried to remove herself from you entirely.

“No.” She stated bluntly. “I don’t think I’ll let you have an orgasm tonight.” She announced, as if it was the most mundane topic. “Mommy has to teach you how to be a good girl.” She told you, smirking at how pathetically you whined.

With a wave of her hands, she secured your wrists and ancles, red magic swirling over them and holding them in place, making sure that your hands were pinned above your head and your legs were being spread wide open.

“I’ll be good, Mommy, please!” You tried again, your limbs instinctively trying to fight against her magical bonds, even when you knew it was futile.

“Yeah? You’ll be my good girl tonight?” Wanda asked with mocking softness. “Well, let’s see…”

She enters you without much warning, but your walls welcome her happily, your pussy pulsing and squeezing her desperately. She curls them with each thrust, while she looks at your face with a mix of sadistic pleasure and tender admiration. She makes sure to hit your sweet spot every time, watching the pleasure building within you, reaching the sweet edge of release with a strangled moan, before she cruelly pulls away.

She waits for you to open your eyes, waits for them to meet hers in pleading desperation, before her hand rises and it lands with a harsh slap on your pussy. She does it just once, but it’s enough to have your eyes water and for your body to start squirming again.

“Will you forget to ask permission again?” She asks, getting straight to the point, grabbing your face in her hand and forcing you to look at her. You only shake your head, not trusting yourself to speak and she raises an eyebrow at you. “Words, baby.” She reminds, softer this time, her hold loosening and turning into a caress.

“No, Mommy, I won’t forget to ask for permission again.” You shake your head, but you answer her this time.

“Good.” She smiles, her gaze turning towards your needy pussy. “Then let’s try again.” She says with smile.

Her fingers return soon after, probing and teasing your pussy, this time she circles your clit with them, slow and gentle motions that drive you wild with need. Anything she does feels amazing at this point, really. Even that slap on your pussy, despite the pain and the sudden harshness, was almost good enough to trigger your orgasm.

“Mommy, may I please come?” You whine, when you feel yourself reaching the edge. The way she touches you is overwhelmingly good. Too good. And her hand doesn’t pull away.

“No. You may not.” She responds firmly. “Hold it.”

“I can’t. Please! Please, Mommy, you have to stop!” You plead with her, while you try to hold on to anything that might keep you grounded.

Wanda’s hand pulls away, leaving you edged once more and an almost evil smirk appears on her lips when she thinks about what you’d said.

“Such a good girl.” She praises softly, kissing your parted lips and making you open your eyes, so you can look at her. “You want to be a good girl for me, don’t you?” She asks, smirking. You can see the mischief behind her words, but you can’t be sure why yet, your brain too foggy and too overwhelmed to really think it through.

“I want to be good for you, Mommy.” You repeat, almost on autopilot.

“Good. Well, good girls don’t come without permission, do they?” She asks, but at this point, you’re pretty sure it’s rhetorical. “And you already know that you’re not allowed to come tonight, so it’s pointless to ask for permission anyway, isn’t it? If you want to be good, you should be begging me to deny you instead.” She says triumphantly, smirking when your eyes go wide with realization and disappointment.

She doesn’t give you much time to say anything, before she’s making her way down your body, kissing your breasts and licking over your erect nipples, leaving a few marks on your tender flesh, then moving even lower, settling between your legs and caressing your things, before she lowers her head and starts to lick your pussy.

She moans at your taste, trying to delve in deeper, gathering your juices on her tongue and swallowing them greedily, before she swirls her tongue over your clit, making you moan and arch under her.

You try to fight the pleasure, you try to keep yourself from falling too fast, but it’s inevitable. She’s too good, she knows your body too well and you know it’s a losing battle.

“Oh my God, Mommy!” You scream. You want her to make you come. You need her to make you come. You need relief. And you want to beg her to let you. “Mommy, please!” You utter out, desperate, not wanting to say the words that will condemn you to denial. You refuse to utter them.

When she can sense that you’re too close, she pulls away, edging you once again and she gives you a moment of reprieve, for you to catch your breath, before she makes you look down at her.

Her hand rises again, slapping your pussy with a grin that only widens when you try to escape her. She looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to say something and when you don’t, she does it again, her fingers landing on your clit this time and making your eyes fill with tears again.

“I’m sorry, please!” You try to beg, not really sure what to say to get yourself out of this situation. “Please, I’ll be good.” You try again, when her hand raises for the third time.

“You’ll be good, baby?” Wanda smirks, satisfied to see all the defiance leaving you. She enters you gently and curls her fingers inside you, causing a surge of relief to pass through your body at the stimulation. “And what do good girls say to Mommy, when they’re close?” She asks expectantly, using her other hand to draw circles over your clit.

The stimulation hits you full force and you gasp, trying to fight off the pleasure, trying to keep yourself from letting go, but you can’t. You’re already so close, she’s been keeping you on the edge for a while now and she knows it. When she puts some extra pressure on your clit, you moan, instantly surrendering.

“Mommy, please don’t let me come!” You say pleadingly, your body writhing, when she pulls her hands away once more.

The thoughts in your head and the sensations you’re experiencing are so conflicting it almost hurts. You want to come so badly, your whole body is on fire and each small touch makes you crave your release so much more. But you also want to be a good girl for Wanda, you crave her praise and her soft dominance, you crave her approval. You want to make her happy. And you know how much this makes her happy. You can feel the internal elation in her, when you do as you’re told.

“That’s my good girl.” Wanda smiles, her hands running up and down your thighs soothingly, while she waits for the edge to wear off. “You did so well, my darling.” She tells you softly, kissing the insides of your thighs.

“Thank you, Mommy.” You breathe out a sigh of relief. It feels so good, when she says that and means it.

Your words only spur Wanda on, giving her another wicked idea and she starts to tease your pussy with her fingers, entering you gently and building another orgasm within you. She holds eye contact with you as she does it, she wants to see the defeat in your eyes this time, when you beg her and she’s not disappointed.

“Please, Mommy, please don’t let me come.” You say with tearful eyes and even though you expect the edge it still hurts, when she pulls away.

“Very good.” Wanda is practically in heaven, her pussy dripping with excitement at how well you’re behaving, how well you’re taking it, but especially at your obedience. “Now say “Thank you” to Mommy, for being so nice and denying you.” She coaxes out of you.

“Thank you for denying me, Mommy.” You say softly, voice shaking at how hard it is to utter those words. “Thank you for letting me be a good girl and not letting me come.”

“Fuck, you’re so hot, when you say that.” Wanda smirks. “You have no idea how turned on that makes me.” She confesses, not even trying to hide how much it pleases her. “Now, baby, Mommy’s going to lick your pussy, but you’re not allowed to have an orgasm.” She tells you. “You’ll be a good girl and beg me to deny you, won’t you?” She asks you expectantly. “And while you do that, Mommy’s going to have some fun with herself.”

For the next long minutes, that’s exactly what she does. She edges you over and over again, and each time you beg her to deny you and you thank her for her cruelty, she gets a little bit closer to having one of the best orgasms of her life.

“You’re so good for me, baby.” Wanda praises with a sigh, her hand working tirelessly between her own legs, her clit twitching with how close she is. “Do you think you can take one more edge for Mommy? Hm?” She asks sweetly.

She rarely allows herself to indulge in such pleasures, rarely lets this side of her sadistic nature run free, especially because you’re usually such a good girl for her, so this is a rare treat, something she wants to savour, something she wants to remember.

“Yes, Mommy, I can do it.” You nod frantically, wanting her to keep going. You never want her to stop. At this point, even though she’s edging you, any stimulation feels better than being left untouched.

“Good girl.” Wanda praises, before starting to slowly lick over your clit.

“Thank you, Mommy!” You sigh. You’re on a wave of pleasure of your own, a twisted pleasure that never ends, a tormenting kind of pleasure that demands more and more, without it ever being enough. “Thank you for being so good to me.” You moan, pulling against the restraints. It’s gloriously good. “Thank you.” You gasp, the closer you get and you can feel her right there on the edge with you, her hand helping her through those final moments. “Thank you for edging me. Thank you for teaching me how to be good, Mommy!” You moan the words in a trans-like state. You’re so close that you think she’ll actually let you come this time.

In the last possible moment Wanda pulls away from your pussy, leaving you edged and in despair as she starts to climax. The orgasm is just glorious, her moans of pleasure mixing with yours, creating a symphony of bliss and despair. Knowing how badly you need to come right now makes her come even harder, her body trembling and her thighs shaking as she continues to circle her clit, until she’s entirely spent and she pulls her hand away with a happy sigh.

When you see that she’s spent, you finally relax, thinking that your punishment is over, that she’ll take pity on you and finally allow you to come, the way you’ve been craving, but she makes no move to alleviate the uncomfortable feelings between your legs.

Climbing up your body, she doesn’t let you say a thing, opting for pushing her slick covered fingers in your mouth and making you suck them clean. She hopes they’ll keep you busy enough, but she isn’t surprised, when you start to beg her just as soon as you can, promising to be good for her and to never misbehave again.

“Hush, sweetie. Just enjoy the taste of Mommy on your tongue.” She shushes you, leaving tender kisses on your face.

“But Mommy, I need it.” You pout, looking up at her with your big, desperate eyes.

“You should have thought of that, before you decided to misbehave today, baby.” Wanda tries to remind you.

“Please, Mommy, just one. Please?” You try again., straining against the bonds that still hold you.

“Mommy already said no, sweetheart.” She explains calmly, though her eyes give away her frustration. She is close to losing her patience. “You were doing so well for me. Don’t stop now.”

“But, Mommy, please! I was good.” You try to bargain again, but from the way her jaw sets and her head tilts, you can see that you have made a very big mistake.

“Yes, and you don’t want to ruin all that, do you? So stop being a brat and listen to Mommy.” She gives you one last warning.

“I’m not a brat! I just want to come. Please?” You say with a pout, getting on Wanda’s last nerve.

“You really wanna cum that badly, huh?” She asks, while gripping your face and spitting the words through gritted teeth, her voice getting lower, until it becomes a dangerous growl.

She doesn’t wait for a response, doesn’t even spare you a second glance, which tells you that whatever she’ll do next, it’s unlikely you’ll enjoy it. Her mind already made up and she travels down your body again on a mission, ignoring your little pleas for her attention and mercy. She doesn’t pretend that she’s going to be soft, her hands starting to work on building an orgasm within you just as soon as she touches you. Her fingers are rough when she enters you and her thumb on your clit puts more pressure than she needs, but you don’t mind. You just want to come.

The orgasm builds within you in just a few short minutes, in fact, you think it’s less and you wait for the moment it hits you with bated breath. You even think she might edge you again, just to spite you, but she doesn’t. Her fingers work with purpose and they push you over the edge with experienced ease. Wanda watches the way your back arches, the way your walls squeeze her in, the way your mouth falls open, so you can scream with pleasure, she can feel your clit twitching with how good it feels and she doesn’t hesitate for a moment to take it away.

It's worse than an edge. This time she ruins it. And she watches with gleeful satisfaction how you writhe in agony at the displeasure of having your orgasm ruined.

“No, no, no, no, no!” You say in panicked frenzy, but there’s nothing you can do. Tied up and helpless, your hands twist in her bonds, desperate for you to be free so you can do something to make it better.

“What? Didn’t you want to come?” Wanda smirks at you, raising her hand and spanking your pussy. It’s overstimulated and sensitive, making her slap hurt even more and you yelp, uselessly flailing on the bed.

Tears start to stream down your face soon after. Tears of frustration and desperation, tears that came from being denied what you wanted. You hated being denied. You hated it so much when you couldn’t get what you want. In moments like this you could be a real brat, but Wanda was going to deal with that once and for all.

“Did you like your orgasm, baby?” She asks gleefully. “Was it worth making Mommy angry?” You can only shake your head, still feeling the aftershocks of unfulfilled pleasure coursing through you. “Well, baby, you got yourself in this situation and now you’ll get exactly what you asked for.” She tells you with an air of finality.

Before you can ask what she means, she puts her hands on your pussy again, fingers running through your folds and teasing your clit. It feels too much, your body still recovering and the pleasure she brings with her touch isn’t enough to help the overstimulation, but she doesn’t care. What’s worse is that your body craves it and your tears run dry, immediately replaced by yearning. The ruin somehow amplified your need and now, despite the overstimulation, you stayed still, allowing her each touch, chasing another high.

Wanda’s cruelty doesn’t stop, now that you’ve truly pushed her buttons and she’s determined to see this through the end, no matter how many orgasms she has to ruin to do it. It only turns her on, the more you start to realize that there’s no escape and she decides to enjoy herself fully, her hand returning between her legs, so she can coax another orgasm out of her own pussy as well.

She builds you up quickly, but this time you’ve had time to think, so when you reach your edge, you beg.

“Mommy, may I please come? Please?” You ask sweetly, hoping to win her over.

“Of course, baby. Go ahead and come for me.” She encourages with a gentle smile and you feel yourself let go immediately.

Wanda watches with careful eyes as you start to orgasm, your clit throbbing and she doesn’t hesitate to pull away again, her smile turning into a cruel grin as she watches you whine and thrash on the bed.

The second ruin is even more unsatisfying than the first, all the pleasure fading away and only leaving a bitter taste, which is a mixture of craving for release, disappointment and frustration. It makes you let out a long cry, your eyes fixing her and pleading wordlessly for her to take pity on you.

“Oh, did you think I was really going to let you have a full orgasm?” She asks through a laugh devoid of amusement. “No, you’ll only be having ruins.” She announces, answering her own question before you had a chance to speak. “I want to see how many you can have.”

“Please, Mommy, I’ll be good.” You tried to plead.

“You had your chance to be good for me, darling. Now you’ll just have to face the consequences.” She explains, patient and even a little excited. “You know what consequences are, don’t you?” She asks in a mockingly sweet voice. “Perhaps after tonight, my lovely girl will think twice, before acting up.” She muses with a deep sigh.

The way your eyes widened in fear and dejection shouldn’t have turned Wanda on as much as they did. She should have felt terrible for doing all these cruel, sadistic things to you, but instead, she felt excited. Your adorable little pussy was practically dripping on the sheets, wet and aching and ready to be filled to the brim, ready for every touch she was willing to offer… Ready to be ruined.

How poetic, she mused to herself, pondering on the beauty of the double meaning behind her thought. She wondered if perhaps you would find it as amusing as she did? Then again… Perhaps not. But she was enjoying herself immensely and she didn’t hesitate for a moment to slip her slender fingers inside your hungry hole, filling you up, until you took all of her.

She fucked you almost lazily, her adoring eyes devouring the sight of you stretching around her, of the droplets of your arousal smeared across your pussy and her hands, of the way your muscles twitched and spasmed, your body struggling to stay still. All beautiful. All for her.

Wanda could see that you were getting lost in your pleasure, in your own little world, which, at this moment, seemed to revolve entirely around her. You always looked so pretty when your brain got all fuzzy and all you could do was cling to her, just as you did now. She could see you slipping into subspace, defiance giving way to submission, the internal battle within you giving way to acceptance.

Her mouth joins her fingers this time, her tongue gliding over your clit deliciously, making it even more painful, when she takes the next orgasm away from you, ruining it. Your whole pussy spasms uselessly with no stimulation once more, empty and untouched, making you whine. You’ve rarely had ruins before, and always accidental, but this was the first time with Wanda and certainly the first time you’ve had so many in a row. It’s the worst punishment you’ve ever faced.

She almost cums at the sight of you, all desperate and ruined and entirely at her mercy. She certainly hoped for it to be enough, wanting to fall apart while you were writing through another ruined orgasm. It would have been the perfect taunt, but she needs a little more.

“Mommy.” You say, the words spilling out of your mouth without much thought. You don’t even know what you want to say.

“Shhh, it’s ok, love. Mommy’s here.” She reassures you, her free hand running up and down your thighs to soothe you. “I’ll take care of you.” She whispers softly, her chest filling with pride and love at how quickly you nod your head. “Isn’t it much better when Mommy thinks for you, my love? Isn’t it easier, when you let Mommy make all those hard decisions and you just do as you’re told?” She spoke softly, her features reflecting her demeanour.

“Yes, Mommy knows best.” You nod, eyes unfocussed.

“That’s right. Mommy knows best.” Wanda confirms proudly. “You’re not going to forget that next time, are you?” She asks gently.

“No, Mommy, I won’t forget. I promise to be so good.” You look up at her, nodding, eyes so soft it melts Wanda’s heart.

“Good, sweetheart.” Wanda smiles, before she lowers her head again.

She’s careful when she takes your clit into her mouth, careful to get you used to the stimulation in this state, before she speeds up. She knows you’re sensitive and almost at your limit and she doesn’t want to hurt you, so she builds your next orgasm slowly, her hands stroking the skin of your thighs in a gentle manner, helping your body relax further, all the while she’s touching herself.

When you reach the edge, Wanda can hear the internal battle in your head, thoughts clashing together. You want to beg her to let you come fully this time, you want to plead with her, but you know you shouldn’t. You know you don’t deserve it. You know you pushed her to do this to you, your little transgressions flashing behind your closed lids, before you come to the conclusion that you’ve earned your punishment.

But it’s when you call out her name, her chosen title spilling from your lips in warning of your impending orgasm, that she knows she should take mercy on you.

Wanda holds your hips more firmly, her tongue swirling over your clit again and again in perfect circles and she feels the moment your start to orgasm. Your back arches and you fully expect her to pull away, but she doesn’t this time, holding you down while she helps you ride out your pleasure.

The moment you realize that she won’t stop, you let go fully, your first real orgasm crashing over you in full force and you try to hold on to it for as long as you can, relief flooding your senses and making you sigh and moan in pure bliss.

Wanda falls apart right after you, her moans of pleasure revibrating against you and making your orgasm that much sweeter.

When it’s over you feel overstimulated and spent, but thankfully Wanda pulls away, crawling over your body and making your restraints disappear with a single wave of her hand, so she can cuddle you. Her body brings warmth and comfort and you wrap yourself around her with the last of your strength, nuzzling your face in her neck and breathing her in.

“I’m sorry for being such a brat today.” You say after some time has passed and you’ve had time to gather your thoughts.

“I forgive you, sweetheart.” Wanda murmurs, kissing your forehead and pulling you even closer to herself. “You’re a good girl.” She reassures you, wanting you know that you're safe with her.

After a few more minutes pass and she starts to feel you drift off, she tries to rouse you.

“Let me clean you up first, darling.” She offers as she removes some hair from your neck and forehead.

“Tomorrow, please?” You whine, pulling her into an even tighter embrace.

“All right, sweetheart. Tomorrow. Sleep well now.” She concedes, not having the heart to make you get up, especially with how cutely you’d cuddled into her.

“I love you, Wanda.” You say with the last bit of your strength.

“I love you too, my precious girl. More than you know.” Wanda smiles softly, feeling you start to drift off and allowing herself to do the same.

_____________________________________________

I hope you guys enjoyed this fic! I certainly loved writing it.

[senualothbrok]

Revelation

Gif by @dolceaspidenera

Summary: Gale shows Aurora she has nothing to hide. Sequel to Progress and Promise.

"Wreathed in morning light, sitting astride you, her every blemish and bulge is on display. She is exposed. Doubt disturbs her gaze.

You must banish it.

“I want to see you, Aurora.”

You take hold of her hand, swirling your tongue across the pads of her fingers. “All of you. Just like this.”"

AO3 link

Word count: 3.8k

Disclaimers: NSFW. 18+. Smut. Gale x female OC (Aurora). Aurora is in recovery from an eating disorder/body dysmorphia.

More disclaimers: Body worship. Hand and finger kink. Woman on top/cowgirl. Vaginal fingering.

-----

When she rustles beside you, your hand darts out by instinct. Buried in your bedsheets, you hear faint shouts from the docks outside, the morning call of seagulls circling overhead. Aurora has always been one to rise early, much to your chagrin. You prefer to cling to the comforts and luxuries of the night. You reach for her, groaning into your pillow.

“Early,” you manage, as your fingers dance across her hip. “Stay.”

She laughs, a huff of affection. As she retreats, you open a sleep-blurred eye. She is shuffling speedily into her slip, her auburn hair spilling over her shoulders. Strokes of golden light linger on the contours of her face. Even after all this time, your breath still catches at the sight of her, here and yours. The space she has left beside you is an ache, whirling with her scent of lavender and rain. The fragrance of home.

“Come back to bed, Aurora,” you rasp.

She smiles, amused, forbearing. You mourn the cascade of white silk over her curves. Never before have you hated a piece of flimsy, spiteful fabric as much as you do now. You could disintegrate it with a thought, were it not for Aurora’s wishes. You yearn for the constellations of freckles below her breasts and navel, trembling beneath your touch.

“I need to get to the market, Gale. I want to get you those pastries you like. And I need to get some paints and ink.”

You grizzle, shifting onto your back. After the discoveries of last night - a secret mole on the innermost curve of her thigh, a snug spot that made her body sing - you cannot think of anything less appealing than leaving this bedroom. Not for a thousand ancient tomes would you trade such reveries. Not even for signed first editions.

“All that can wait.” 

She is reaching for her robe, draped lazily on a chair beside your bed. Outside the paradise of your bedsheets, Aurora cannot bear to be naked. It saddens you, how difficult it still is for her, though your love burns in every caress of skin and tongue and soul. This goddess in all but name, the north star blazing in your blue-green sky. In your haze, it seems the greatest injustice to watch the covering of her perfect form, so recently bare and flushed against yours.

It will not do. No, you cannot bear it. You spring awake, your mind and body united in their purpose.  With a crackle and flicker of your fingers, her robe whizzes into your grip. You draw yourself up against the headboard.

Aurora can be playful. You discovered it soon after she moved into your home. It was a delight, to step behind the veil of solemn reservation, to see the twinkle in those appraising eyes. There was the joy of novelty in her, too. She had never had the chance for mischief, under the yoke of illness and her mother’s cruelty. Now, she relishes the opportunity to tease and tickle, to nip at an earlobe or ghost over a nipple. To rise to the challenge of desire. You are almost certain she will play your game.

Her lips part in surprise for an instant. Then she frowns, an impression of disapproval. “Gale.”

There is something about the intensity of her furrowed brow that makes you want to grin. It is almost theatrical. Supremely endearing. You resist the urge, mirroring her frown instead.

“Oh.” You smooth out her robe in your lap, deliberate and measured. “Did you want this?”

“Gale.” Her tone is stern, but her gaze is tender. She bites her lip, a telltale sign that sparks through your thoughts and steels your resolve. Heat simmers beneath your skin, the thrumming arousal of half-sleep that swells. “Come now.”

You arch an eyebrow. “You come now.” You tap your thigh briskly. “Come here.”

She narrows her eyes, silver flashing in a grey sea. For a while she waits as you tilt your head, your lips curled in appraisal and expectation. She pulls at her slip, her arms hovering over her belly, a habit of concealing beauty she believes to be ugliness. A habit you are bent on helping her to break, even if it takes a lifetime.

The standoff does not last long. You knew it would not. With a sigh, she climbs onto the bed, grasping for the robe which you snatch away from her once, twice, three times. You are deft and quick, and she is small, and it is easy. She glares at you, shadow daggers without an edge.

“Come closer,” you drawl. 

Her cheeks are dusted coral now. You laugh as she clambers onto your lap, her slip riding higher and higher up her thighs as she clutches for the prize that you suspend frustratingly beyond her reach. A shoulder strap falls, her lowered neckline dancing over the dark skin around her nipple. The trail of freckles between her collarbone and her cleavage is a torment, stirring your ever-present compulsion to follow where it leads. You linger on the peaks pressing through the silk that clings to her breasts, almost translucent as she jostles. There is a gathering within you, a tingling in your groin that is spreading into your core. Your growing hardness twitches against her as you wet your lips.

You feel her sharp breath, warm and sour-sweet, the tightening of her lean calves bracketing you. The gentle, subconscious roll of her hips as her eyelids flutter. You sense, once again, that she cannot resist you. Rare are the occasions when she tries. You only have to ask, and she will open to you, like the blooming bud of an unseen flower, kept in a vault to which only you have the key. She is yours, and always will be.

A jolt of desire, red and raw, pulses through you.

You fling her robe onto the floor. She does not move towards it. You seize your victory.  A gasp escapes her as you press down on the velvet soft cheeks of her ass, her arms falling around your neck like an anchor. As she buckles forward, her thick waves form a curtain around your faces, streaked with faded light. She is everything, and there is nothing else but her. 

Aurora is quiet. In the early days, your only guide to her arousal was the catching and quivering of her breath, the tensing of her flesh, the rippling of her features. Through pants and pauses, you learned the peaks and troughs of her pleasure, and in the discovery, found that she, too, was embarking on uncharted territory. Until you, Aurora’s only experience of intimacy was to mask herself with a Glamour, lying still and silent to perform a role she never asked to play. Before you, she had never known the topography of love and desire, the twining of mind, flesh and soul with another.

She had confessed, later, that you were the only one to have brought her to climax. She had never before felt that explosion of ecstasy - singular and earth-shattering, entirely alien. You remember the long, lilting moan that dripped from her, echoing the first taste of her release. And though you felt sorrow at her story, you swelled with pride. Yours is the only flesh to have joined the marvel of hers, naked and unglamoured, and brought her to bliss. If you could wear this as a badge of honour for the world to see, you would.

Yet at times there is still a hesitation in her. Not just a shyness, cemented by years of isolation, when her body was always a punishment and never a privilege. But a hint of shame. A deep-seated suspicion that you will turn away.

To have beheld Aurora in all her glory has transformed you. You could never turn away.

Your hungry mouth finds hers, open, wet and willing. You clutch and pull at the offensive fabric that stubbornly separates her skin from yours. Heinous, wretched thing. You could tear it off, rip it with your teeth. As her tongue glides against yours, she does not seem to notice your frenzy. Her delicate fingers weave into your hair, setting every fibre alight. She whimpers ever so softly as you lap and suck at the corner of her lip, her chin gleaming and moist with your spit, and all at once you are rock hard, possessed by the feel and smell and taste of her. You wrench and tug her slip upwards, drawing back slightly to whip it over her head.

Aurora pauses. Flushed and breathless, she looks down, and you know she is registering her position. She is not cloaked by your writhing limbs, or obscured beneath the bedsheets. Wreathed in morning light, sitting astride you, her every blemish and bulge is on display. She is exposed. Doubt disturbs her gaze.

You must banish it. 

“I want to see you, Aurora.” You take hold of her hand, swirling your tongue across the pads of her fingers. “All of you. Just like this.” 

She shivers. For emphasis, you press her hand firmly against your cock. It throbs, free from the constraints of clothing, seeking her like a beacon. Her touch is a surge of electricity, and you cannot stop the groan that spurts out of you. Her grey eyes are almost black, dilated with unmistakable longing.

“Please,” you whisper.

You would not ask if you thought she was unwilling. If you saw displeasure in her hesitation, and not a residual fear of rejection, an anticipation of disgust. And you must show her, again and again, that you could never respond to the miracle of her beauty with anything but the most all-consuming love. You will never stop showing her.

In the steepling of her brow, you sense a shift. The shell of trust and love peeking open. She arches backwards with the easy grace of a swan, and you are the lake beneath and around and within her. You peel her slip off with a slow and gentle reverence, your breathing stilted by awe. She closes her eyes, and you are entranced by the arc of her lifted arms, the web of her lashes, the starry patterns of her dappled skin. The sheen of desire adorning her mound. 

She is, as always, a revelation. 

“I love you.” Your voice is a prayer. “Every part of you.”

You do not let her hands fall to conceal the softness of her stomach, the stretchmarks around her hips and breasts. All the parts you cherish which she yearns to hide, dazzling stitches in the glorious tapestry of Aurora. Her eyes glimmer as you clasp her hands against the bristles of your beard, holding her fast. An eternal affirmation. A promise you will keep making until the end of your days.

You are safe. You are seen. You are loved.

Her eyes widen as you push your tangled bodies away from the headboard. Raised halfway on her knees, she steadies herself on your shoulders, as though balanced on a tightrope, with only you to keep her from falling. Every muscle within you clenches with a building ache as you bend upwards to clasp her close. You run your tongue from the nook behind her earlobe to the heave of her breast, swirling a circle around her nipple.

“I love this part,” you murmur, sucking at the hardened bud.

Her breath seizes, arousal thrusting against uncertainty. As she tilts forward, you lean back on an elbow to savour the gift of this moment - the fullness of Aurora bare and naked before you, the undeniable quiver of faith, hope and love that vibrates through her flawless form. You circle one arm around the small of her back, and the warmth of her hands gliding up your neck and into your hair sends a spasm through your gut. When your tongue catches the salt around her navel, sweeping over each mole and freckle on her midriff, she stiffens. But you trust.

“I love this part,” you repeat.

You plant wet, starving kisses on the dimples of her belly, dark corners which Aurora so fears to tread. She tenses with apprehension, hanging back slightly. You look up at her, open mouthed, your tongue still flickering from its feast before. You hold her gaze as your fingers snake over her hip bone, through her damp wiry down, to her molten core. Her folds are hot and slick, her clit smooth as a nectar-coated petal. She shudders, toppling back into you as you find it, sending a pulse from the tips of your toes through the deepest recesses of your balls. 

“And this part,” you groan into her skin.

You can smell the salt tang of her desire now, and it is intoxicating. You hum, half-drunk, as you lap at the curves of her waist, tracing swift whirls around her fire with your lithe and expert fingers. With them, you can summon the mightiest storm, reduce enemies to dust. You can raise up and tear down. But no spell could ever come close to this most masterful of skills, reserved for her alone.

She lets out a whine, short and needy - that precious signal, the spark which stokes the raging fires within you. You cannot hold it any longer. You grab her hand in your slick-soaked fingers and wrap it around your cock. You are fully erect, veins throbbing, a desperate bead leaking from your tip. In her slender fingers, you are a giant, growing stiffer by the second. You are invincible.

If she had any reservations about her effect on you, there can be surely no doubt now. In this moment, there is nothing you want more. You are nothing more than an all-consuming ache for her. She looks at you half-lidded, a gossamer string of saliva trickling from her parted, plump lips. 

“Yes,” she pleads.

You are panting as you guide her hand, aligning your length against the dew of her entrance. She lowers herself onto you so delicately that you feel like clay in a sculptor’s hands. Her walls are so smooth, so tight, against the head of your cock, and the pleasure is so piercing that your elbow buckles under you as you writhe. She falls forward, her arms trembling on either side of your head, her tongue a helpless flurry inside, outside, around your eager mouth. The mattress shivers beneath you. You see how her mind narrows to a pinpoint, drifting from the flaws she imagines and longs to hide. You feel the grinding of her hips, inviting you deeper inside her. Every sign of her unravelling snaps a frayed nerve inside you.

“Yes, my love,” you manage. “Take your pleasure.”

She withdraws a little, confusion flitting across her features. A fleeting awkwardness. You remember that this is not a position Aurora is accustomed to, nor is the control and rapture that comes from it. All at once, you are gripped by a singular determination. You will show her, or help her learn herself. You will help her reclaim what has been lost to her, all these long and lonely years, before her comet blazed into your world.

You lean upwards, your hands resuming their placement on her ass. She stares, wide-eyed, unsure. You send your thoughts out to her - trust me - and her lips ease into a faint, halting smile. You finally understand the purpose of all those meaningless dalliances of your youth, when you fumbled over and finessed the techniques of love. They were all for her. All for this.

You draw your knees up and shift your pelvis. You feel for the swollen pearl of her clit against the top of your shaft. You have memorised its contours well, so well you could seek it out blind. Aurora is your favourite topic of study, a masterpiece you will never stop unveiling. And between the sheets, this gem is her centre. When you find it, you angle yourself so every surge of your cock will grind against it. She sucks in a breath, and you smile at the confirmation.

“Does this feel good?” 

As you thrust up into her, you push her hips down to swallow your length. A blush flares on Aurora’s cheeks, deep as the pink of her folds. You grit your teeth through the compulsion that engorges you, the tremors of need through your muscles. On the third stroke, she bites her lip and rolls her eyes back as she takes your fullness inside her.

Gods, you think to yourself. You cannot hold on much longer. One moan, one whimper, one gasp as she arches back, and you could let go and fall off the edge. 

You remind yourself that you must not. You must hold on for her.

“Take your pleasure, Aurora,” you rasp.

She moves slowly, tentatively, chasing after the movement you have set. You cup her breasts as they sway, pinching gently at her nipples, thumbing at the freckles nestled within their smooth, silky undersides. Rapt and voracious, you watch for signs of growing tension seeking release. A wrinkle appears between her eyebrows, the mark of laboured concentration. The drag of your cock inside her is an ache that rubs you raw. But there is a faltering in her rhythm as she rises and falls, a frown that betrays her mounting anxiety.

You realise, with horror, that she has slipped into a performance, and she feels she is failing.

She stops. “I'm sorry.” She looks away. “I'm not very good at this. I'm not sure-”

You lurch upwards to catch her words with your mouth. You speak your reassurance through the tender dance of tongues, the shield of your arms around her. You are furious with yourself, incandescent, to have put herself in this position. To have made her feel that she could do anything to let you down. It is unconscionable.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, moving back. “I didn’t mean-”

She cuts you off with an embrace. The force of it winds you. Aurora is small, but she is not weak. Her resolution has a firmness that has always stilled you. She nuzzles into your hair and neck, sealing tiny kisses along your Adam's apple. She soaks you in, and you are buoyed by the strength of her love, pure and unwavering. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

You cannot ignore the sincerity in her voice. Her love is larger than your anger, greater than any foolish mistake you could make. Before her altar, you lay down the burdens of blame. You press your lips to her forehead, her eyelids, her cheeks. You had wondered if it was all too much for her, if you should stop. But her fingers are ghosting over the base of your cock, and her mouth is almost greedy when she tilts your chin down to taste your moan.

“What feels good?” you ask, when you pull apart to breathe.

She struggles to answer. The question is a continual discovery, its waypoints not formed from words. But you know some of them already. You can remind her. 

“Does this feel good?”

You brush your lips across her fingers, widening your mouth as you take two, then three, into your wet warmth. You swirl your practised tongue into the space between them, sucking one in softly, the other more firmly. Her gaze darkens, the edge of her thumbnail bearing against your beard as it glistens with your spit.

You are wizards. It was not a surprise to discover your mutual love of fingers, those graceful channels of power and wonder. She had been surprised, at first, to find out all the secret spells they could cast. Her clear delight filled you with a fervent satisfaction. You know, as you press your fingers into her open mouth, that this will drive her wild. 

Her eyes wrench closed as her tongue glides down the length of your index finger, weaving and winding across, desperate for more. The shine of saliva on her chin mirrors the moisture that streams over your spasming cock as she licks and sucks with increasing hunger, whining as you plunge her digits deeper into your mouth. As you savour every inch and groove of her, your thoughts slow to a trickle. You are coming undone. 

She begins to rock, echoing the rhythm of your fingers. The flame of her desire burns over in tiny oscillations of her hips that shudder through your girth. Wider and stronger they grow, following the fierce current that takes hold of her, banishing all thought and doubt. You keen, her walls tightening and clenching as she flinches, the top of your shaft aching from the bulge of her clit and the friction that mounts as she rolls faster and faster into you. Her whimper rumbles through the pads of your fingers, and you hear the slick, heavy sounds of her arousal everywhere at once.

“Gale.” Her voice is torn with need and pleasure. “That feels so good.’

Her words are a spell. A door swings open inside you, breaking from its hinges. She senses it. Your hips snap of their own accord, thrusting to her quickening pace. All the love and lust within you gathers into the power between your legs, a roiling river ready to burst its banks. You gulp and suck, your teeth catching on her knuckles, your fingers pressing down on her flurrying tongue. She shakes as her wetness convulses around your surging cock, the twitching urgency of climax pulling her off the precipice. You gasp out a muffled cry, clinging to the last vestiges of the dam inside you as they splinter, one by one. She throws her head back and cries out your name.

You explode inside her. It is a shattering of every sensation that you have ever felt, an unleashing of yourself in bursts of blinding ecstasy. You spasm against her, a chaos of incoherent murmurs through the aftershocks of bliss. Your chest heaves, your vision fogs, your skin tingles against hers. And when your eyes meet again, a haze of awe and wonder cocoons you.

There are many things you want to say as you lie beside her. Her gaze is bright and gentle as sunlight on snow, her tousled hair a waterfall winding through your heart. You want to tell her that you love her with the fire of a thousand suns. That no night sky or grand illusion could ever hold a candle to her beauty. That she is your beginning and your end, and every instant with her is the most magical of revelations. But you do not. 

It is her moment. Her milestone. You sense the memories that ebb and flow within her, the tide of your love washing over her wounds. You listen to the lilt of her breathing, the swell of the sea, the drum of your heartbeat. Her robe and slip lie discarded on the floor as the morning wears on. You trace the footsteps of her freckles, while she maps out the drifting down on your skin. 

“I think I could do that again,” she says finally. Her smile is light with mischief. 

You grin as she melts into your arms.

-----

Liked this fic? Check out my other work.

[boldlyvoid]

Boldlyvoid Fics set in the Winter Masterlist

Spener Reid x Reader

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all she needs to do is give a witness statement at the station, she ends up taking care of the sweet agent who put his life on the line to avenge her sister.

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Professional Hair Dresser (Ph.D) - 6.4k

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Lovers Quarrel - 1.4k

Request: okay! so the request i had was that you and spencer are fighting and it’s bad, you both say very hurtful things to each other, and then you argue again after everything cools down and you end up having angry makeup sex, but spencer thinks of what he said to you and he starts crying during sex but he keeps going at it and it’s angsty but has a happy ending?

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[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Faerie and Vampr

Chapter Five

Half the patrons of Marco’s Bar and Grill thought Erik had a hand in the markings on the women’s bodies. The other 50 percent thought that some of the vampire’s from bigger towns or cities had bitten Maudette and Dawn when they were out bar hopping, and they deserved what they got if they wanted to go to bed with vampires. Some thought the girls had been strangled by a vampire, some thought they had just continued their promiscuous ways into disaster. 

But most importantly, everyone who came into Marco’s was worried that some other woman would be killed next. Tamara couldn’t count the times she was told to be careful, to watch her vampire friend who popped up in town recently, told to lock her doors and take the day shift instead. Lloyd came in for both commiseration and suspicion as a man who’d “dated” both women. 

He had come by the house one day and stayed around for about an hour while Nana Sylvia and Tamara tried to encourage him to keep going with his work and doing what Lloyd normally does. But for the first time in Tamara’s memory, her handsome brother was really worried. She hated that he got himself mixed up with those women. It’s unfortunate what happened to them, but now her brother could be in trouble with the law for something he didn’t do. 

Tamara didn’t try to dwell on the deaths of the two women. Although everyone else was suspicious of her brother and Erik, all she could think about was that kiss two nights ago. His lips, so soft and skillful, had her dreaming of what it would be like to roll around in the sheets kissing him all night long. The dream didn’t go further than kissing, which was enough to have her pink and white panties wet waking up that morning, but the possibility of sex with Vampyr Erik did cross Tamara’s mind. 

It was the evening for Crimson Mist. Tamara finally pulled a simple dress from her closet after going through half of her dress collection and littering her bed. She felt it was perfect for the occasion. It was a nice date dress, if you wanted the personal interest of whoever was your escort. It was a body con dress. Tight and black. The fabric was clinging to every dip, curve, and valley. Her brown skin glowed and her cleavage showed. She completed the look with metallic silver high-heeled sexy sandals, a delicate sterling silver chain necklace that draped between her breasts, and silver hoops. She put on light glam makeup and wore her hair in a fresh wash-and-go.

Nana Sylvia’s eyes widened when she came out of her room. 

“Sugar, you look beautiful,” she said. “Aren’t ya’ gonna be a little cold in that dress?”

Tamara giggled, “No, ma’am, I don’t think so. It’s pretty warm tonight.” 

“Ya’ sure?” Nana Sylvia pressed. “a nice white sweater, the one I got ya’ for Christmas—”

“Okay, how about I grab my moto jacket just in case it cools down?” 

Tamara looked and felt sexy. Something she rarely gets a chance to feel. She was pretty excited about going on a date with Erik, though she kind of asked him herself and it was more of a fact-finding mission. Plus, it’s his bar. Would it count as a date at his own business?

“See,” Tamara showed Nana Sylvia her moto jacket, “This goes well with it, doesn’t it?”

“Yes. I’m not tryna tell ya’ what to do.”

Tamara kisses her Nana on the cheek. A knock on the door had Nana Sylvia moving faster than Tamara to be the first to open the door. She fixed her silver hair that was styled in a low bun and adjusted her house dress with different tribal patterns on it. She gasped with excitement and opened her arms in true grandma fashion, pulling Erik’s cold body into a warm embrace. 

“Erik! It’s so good to see ya’ again! How are ya’, handsome?” 

“Takin’ it easy, Miss Sylvia. Ya’ lookin’ beautiful. I hope all is well wit’ ya’.” 

“Oh,” Nana Sylvia blushed. “It's well. All is well. Come in! Come in! Darn moths…”

Erik chuckled, swatting a few away before shutting the door behind him. His eyes scanned the foyer with immense joy before they fell on Tamara standing awkwardly to his right. 

Erik wore a white beater that left little to the imagination— an eight pack and pecs to match. Black jeans that fit tighter at the ankles and loose in the waist were on his lower half. He had on a moto jacket himself but it was black and white. Tungsten steel pendants hung from his neck and various rings in tungsten accessorized his thick fingers. Onyx earrings bejeweled both ears and high top black and white vans were on his feet. 

When he saw her, Tamara wasn’t sure if she’d overdone it because he seemed really annoyed. His face went quite still. His eyes flared. His fingers curved as if he were scooping something up with them. Tamara had to remind herself that she couldn’t hear his thoughts. The one person who she’d give anything to listen in on. 

“Is this okay?” Tamara asked anxiously. She felt the butterflies in her belly. 

“…Yes,” He finally spoke. But his pause had been long enough to get Nana Sylvia’s attention.

“Look, sugar, ya’ got this man speechless!!” Nana Sylvia laughed, “My Tammy is the prettiest girl around!”

“Oh, yes,” Erik agreed, but there was a curious lack of inflection in his deep voice. 

Tamara didn’t know what to think. She wanted to call the entire date off then. What was his fucking problem? Screw him. This isn’t a damn date anyway. Tamara stiffened her back and walked up to him, linking her arm in his.

“Ready?” She said with her own annoyance.

“Yes,” Erik turned to Nana Sylvia with a pleasant half smirk, “Good-bye, Miss Sylvia. It was a pleasure seeing ya’ again.”

“You as well, Erik, you two have a good ol’ time. Take care of my sugar foot!” she said, waving them out of the house. 

“Nanaaa,” Tamara fussed with a whiny voice.

“Girl, hush.” Nana Sylvia said.

“Always,” Erik chuckled before he looked down at Tamara,  guiding her down the porch steps. 

Nana Sylvia waited in the door until they were both safe in his flashy sports car. It’s so black Tamara couldn’t see it until they were standing right in front of it. Erik took her jacket and held her door open as she slipped inside. He shut the door softly and like lighting he was on the drivers side and entering. His car had that new car smell and it was so pristine. The leather seat was warm and molded into her body comfortably. He kindly turned on the AC and she buckled herself in. 

Erik took off and Tamara loved how smooth the car drove. Like the tires were gliding on water. Smokestack Lightning played from the Bluetooth in his car and Tamara glanced over at the way he drove one-handed with his left hand while his other hand rested in his lap. She gripped her clutch tightly in her lap, trying to find a way to break the ice.

“I’m sorry I’m not dressed to your liking,” Tamara said sarcastically, staring straight ahead of her.

Erik came to a slow halt in the woods just a mile from the road.

“Who said all that?” Erik asked, his voice very gentle.

“You looked at me like I did something wrong by wearin’ this dress, Erik,” Tamara snapped.

“I’m just doubting my ability to get ya’ in and out without having to kill someone who wants ya’.” 

Tamara slowly turned to look at Erik. 

“You’re being sarcastic.” She turned her gaze back in front of her again but her heart was racing.

Suddenly, Erik’s hand gripped her chin, forcing her to turn and look at him.

“Do I look like I am?”  Erik asked.

His dark eyes were wide and unblinking. 

“No…” Tamara admitted.

“Then accept what I say.” 

He let go of her chin and Tamara sat back in her seat while he resumed driving.

“So…ya’ like it then?” Tamara asked with a small voice.

Erik licked his lips and then stole a look at her dress before turning his attention back onto the road.

“I love the dress. A lot.” 

His eyes went to her again and he scanned her body from head to toe. He took a deep breath in and released it slowly. Tamara glanced over at his lap and she noticed that he was clenching his right fist. 

“Thank you.” 

“Ya’ welcome,” Erik shifted his hips. “What are ya’ wearing on ya’ skin?”

“Huh?” Tamara touched the side of her neck with her fingertips, “Oh, oh uh…Tom Ford. Lost Cherry.” 

“That scent was made for ya’. It enhances your natural pheromones…”

Tamara jumped slightly when Erik pressed his face into her neck and inhaled. Her eyes flashed to the road and he was driving in a straight line to her surprise. He reselfaced and his eyes were low like he was on a super high. Tamara pulled down the mirror above her to apply more gloss to her lips. The choice of music went from blues to R&B and Tamara admired his taste in music. He’d been around long enough to experience it all. 

“Can we roll the windows down? I’d like fresh air if that’s okay…please?”

“I gotcha,” Erik switched off the AC and brought the front two windows all the way down, “good?”

“Perfect,” Tamara’s long spirals blew in the wind and in her face. She smiled to herself, a surge of confidence overcoming her. 

“What are ya’ smilin’ ‘bout?” Erik asked with a smile of his own.

“Nothingggg,” Tamara smoothed hair from her eyes.

“Do I have to get it out of ya, little one?”

“How will you do that?” She turned to look at him.

Erik simply placed his hand on her thigh and squeezed it gently. Tamara’s back stiffened and she looked down at his hand. She knew he could grip her harder than that, and the thought turned her on. He started stroking her inner thigh and she gasped. He caught that.

“Are ya’ gon’ tell me, baby girl?” His black eyes fell on her and he arched a single thick brow.

“…Okay,” She rolled her eyes, “I like that you like what I’m wearing…I like that I made ya’ happy.” 

“Why was that so hard to say, Tammy?”

“I don’t know,” She blushed.

“I make ya’ nervous, Sugar?” 

It wasn’t a question. 

And why did Sugar sound so good Rolling off his tongue?

Tamara didn’t respond. 

“It’s okay. You make me nervous too.”

Tamara didn’t believe that for a second. She looked at him with an accusatory stare. Erik caught her looking and cracked a dimpled smile. 

“Seriously. It’s hard for me to act normal around ya’. I’ve never had this close of a relationship with a human in over eighty years. I’m constantly in my head, trying to impress ya’, tryna’ fight ma’ urges…”

Tamara let his words sink in. She didn’t know vampires could get nervous. She smiled again knowing that she made Erik nervous. This vampire sitting next to her. 

“We’re not so different,” Erik smirked.

Tamara suddenly had the courage to kiss him. She leaned over in her seat and pecked Erik’s cheek. He blinked twice rapidly as if brought out of hypnosis and looked at her. She giggled and shook her head before turning her body fully in her seat. Tamara slipped her feet out of her sandals and brought her feet up to rest on his dashboard but paused when she realized what she was about to do.

“I’m sorry—”

“It’s alright—”

“I’m so used to doin’ it in Lloyd’s truck—”

“Put ya’ pretty feet up there, I don’t care.” Erik said.

“Ya’ sure?” 

“Yes.” 

Tamara stretched her legs. She noticed Erik admiring her toes with nails painted white and a gold anklet with the letter E on it. 

“Thank ya’ for the kiss. But it wasn’t exactly the kiss that I wanted.” Erik said.

“You’re driving right now and I didn’t want to distract ya’ too much,” Tamara replied. 

Erik pulled over on the side of the road and put the car in park. Without a word or a warning, he was out of the car and on Tamara’s side within one breath. She watched as he opened her door and held his hand out for her to take. After slipping on her heels, Tamara grasped his hand with a curious look on her face. Erik shut the door and walked her around to the trunk of the car. In a black night that hugged the skin, that brought full comfort to the soul, the headlights became like lighthouse beams.

“What are we doin’ out here, Erik?” Tamara questioned with an ethereal voice.

Her back is towards the car and he’s standing in front of her. He’s so close now that her ass bumped the trunk and she realized that he’d trapped her. She looked him in the eyes, waiting with bated breath. Erik’s hands molded into her waist and then he lifted her to sit on the trunk. 

“I want a proper kiss.” Erik said.

“We’re wasting time.”

“Not when I own that motherfucka’…”

Tamara tilted her head in thought. What was there to think about?

“I’m trying to decide if you deserve it—”

Erik had his hand in her hair and his lips on hers. Tamara gripped his biceps and squeezed, her body leaning forward to press against his chest. Erik’s hands moved to cup her face and their heads swiveled from left to right. His tongue swiped her bottom lip to grant him access into her sweet mouth and she parted her lips for him to divulge.

 The pouty softness of her bottom lip against the plumpness of his upper lip sent shock waves through her. The evening breeze blew her curls into Erik’s eyes and his locs fell over his forehead from the movement. Tamara broke the kiss and Erik’s eyes noticed how swollen her lips were. He could taste her gloss on his lips and tongue and their eyes met with emotions so strong words couldn’t describe. 

“Maybe we should…get goin’,” Tamara said with a feathery voice. 

Erik could hear her heart pumping through her chest. With his enhanced night vision, he could see the perspiration clinging to her exposed skin and the stiffness of her nipples. If only he had X-ray vision. Her hair is shiny; like black silk and she smelled like sweet almond milk and cherries. 

“Why are ya’  in such a rush, Tammy?” Erik asked.

“I–I’m not.” 

Erik gave her a disbelieving look with a smirk, “it’s just kissin’, baby girl. I promise I’ll excuse my hands and…other things…until ya’ give me the green light.”

He heard the tremble in her breath. 

“Ya’ seem to enjoy our kissing a lot so,” Erik took one of her curls and wrapped it around his finger, “Ya’ want more?” His lips were so close to hers, “‘Cause I do.”

Tammy closes the space between them and with her arms around his shoulders she takes the lead. Erik’s right arm came around Tamara’s waist and her back arched, pressing her soft chest against his vigorous chest. As she nibbled on his bottom lip, Erik’s right hand smoothed down her back until he picked her up to straddle him. The split in her body con dress made it easier for her legs to come around his tapered waist. Both of his hands palmed her ass and his rigid dick would have caressed her sex if it wasn’t for him sitting her back down on the car. She would have been so ready to take him with how wet she is. He could smell her arousal and it was just as sweet. 

“Ya’ right, let’s go.” Erik said between breaths.

His fangs had materialized during their kissing session and Tamara hadn’t noticed. She was having a hard time catching her own breath.

“Okay,” She smoothed her hair from her face.

She couldn’t hide her disappointment.

“Patience, baby,” Erik said, stroking her chin.

His fangs popped back in and Erik picked Tamara up and spun her around before dropping her to her feet quickly. She gasped, staring up at him flustered until a bright smile graced her face.

“I can’t stay mad at you for long,” She admitted.

“I wouldn’t want you to. It breaks my undead heart,” Erik replied jokingly.

They got back in the car and resumed their drive to Crimson Mist with his hand on her thigh and her feet on his dash.

Crimson Mist, the vampire bar and nightclub, was located on Bourbon Street. It was situated within an alleyway and secluded. The name of the place was spelled out in jazzy red neon above the door, and the facade was painted black, with a red door providing color contrast. 

Erik walked around to open Tamara’s door, and he helped her out with one hand while shutting the door with the other. With an arm around her waist, Erik guided Tamara towards the entrance where two bouncers were carding people before entering. When they noticed Erik approaching, one of them opened the door for him to enter. She could sense that those men were both vampires and Erik detected her nervousness.

They were standing in a little boxy entrance hall with red lights. 

“Breathe, Tammy,” Erik whispered into her hair, “Stick to my side at all times.” 

Past a black velvet drape, Tamara got her first comprehensive look at Crimson Mist’s interior. Everything was black and red. The walls were covered with upholstered paneling that reminded Tamara of sound proof foam. There are two bars on each side of the club, a stage for entertainment and another stage with a throne chair situated on it. Random stripper poles with beautiful women twirling from them. The music was deafening, the people were dressed in leather, chains and whips. The lighting was dim, of course, nothing unusual about that. 

Vampire groupies and tourists were among the majority of patrons and it made it easier to distinguish the undead from the living. Some of the living looked ridiculous with their capes, fake fangs, and painted blood. They were extraordinary, and extraordinarily pathetic. The undead were like real jewels in a bin of rhinestones. They mostly favored dark clothes too, but were more interesting. 

With Erik still clinging to her, Tamara continued to look around with interest and amazement and some distaste. All eyes were on them, probably because of Erik. He leaned down to whisper to her.

“You look like a white candle in a coal mine.”

Tamara giggled, and then they strolled through the scattered crowd of people to the bar. There was a never ending supply of alcohol on fancy glass shelves behind the bar and Tamara could also see bottled blood either refrigerated or warm in cases for the vampires. The laminated menu attached to the sticky bar top in black marble had signature drinks like a bloodthirsty martini or a blood orange margarita. Tamara ordered a Fangria and accepted the drink from a smiling bartender that showed his fangs. Tamara returned a nervous smile. 

“How’s it going, boss?” The bartender asked. “This pretty thing is your meal for tonight?” He nodded towards Tamara as he put her drink on the bar for her. 

“This is Tamara,” Erik pulled her closer to him, “She has some questions to ask tonight. I figured I’d bring her along to see if she can get the answers she desires.”

Tamara looked up at Erik with a slight frown. 

“Anything, beautiful,” the Indian bartender with long coal black hair looked at her with hungry eyes. 

“Do you know anything about these two women,” Tamara retrieved her phone from her clutch, presenting the photos to the bartender, “Or this man here,” She pulled up a photo of Lloyd. 

“Yes, to the women, no to the man, though he looks delicious,” said the bartender, smiling at her again, “Is that your husband?”

“No. That’s my brother. I just wanted to know if he’d been around here with any of these women. Have ya’ noticed any men around these women?”

“…that’s something I wouldn’t know,” he replied quickly, his face closing down, “that’s something we don’t notice here. You won’t either. Ain’t that right, boss?”

Tamara looked up at Erik again and he had an expression with practiced control. 

“Thank you,” Tamara said politely, realizing she’d broken a rule. It was dangerous to ask who left with whom, evidently, “I appreciate it. Thanks for the drink.”

The bartender looked at Tamara considerably.

“Let me see the girls again,” he pointed at the photo of Dawn’s picture, “that one, she wanted to die.”

Tamara leaned in to speak closer. Erik stood behind her now, both hands on her waist.

“How do ya’ know?”

“Everyone who comes here does, to one extent or another,” he said matter-of-factly. Tamara could tell he took that for granted. “That's what we are. Death.”

He chuckled and Erik joined in on the laugh. Tamara shuddered. Erik’s arm found its way on her arm, drawing her away to a vacated booth. Tamara pulled her arm away from him, clearly irritated, and just then she was blocked by a statuesque woman covered in tattoos and wearing a black lace shawl with bell sleeves, a black corskirt that hugged her curves, and a patent leather black clincher. Her hair was styled similar to those pinup girls from the 40s and her bold red lipstick made her lips look sultry. 

“Finally brought your play thing to the establishment. How sweet.”

Tamara arched a brow at Lana and she was ready to say something just as unpleasant but Erik cut her off. 

“Lana, this is Tamara. Didn’t get the chance to speak last time with everything that happened.” Erik said.

“I don’t recall wanting to speak to her last time,” Lana cocked her head to the side, challenging Tamara to say anything with her deadly stare. 

“Lana,” Erik’s eyes narrowed and his voice went deep, “Do I have to remind you of our discussion earlier?”

Lana’s demeanor changed with one look from Erik and a bright smile replaced her face. She gave Tamara a flirty wave that Tamara didn’t return because she could see that Lana was only playing nice because Erik told her so. 

“Can’t return the gesture? Let me find out this sweet little fragile thang ain’t so sweet.” Lana teased.

“I don’t do well with fakes,” Tamara replied. 

Lana’s brows rose with humor and her beautiful smile with sharp white fangs didn’t seem to affect Tamara. Erik was losing patients with her disrespect and from the way Erik looked, Tamara didn’t want to stick around to see what he had planned for his progeny. 

“Trust, the feeling is mutual.” Lana replied.

Lana strutted away from them to the throne chair that Tamara gathered belonged to Erik. She left Erik standing there and slid into the booth. He joined her and sat across from her, his pitch black eyes scanning the room before they came to a stop on her. 

“This is reality, Tammy.” Erik said.

“Do you think I came here with you to die? Because I didn’t,” Tamara argued.

Erik laughed, and if it wasn’t for her anger towards him, she would have folded. The smile and the dimples get her every time. 

“What’s so funny? You knew I wasn’t going to get any answers coming here, didn’t you?”

“…And ya’ knew that yourself. Love the determination by the way, nice touch,” Erik smirked.

“You really get on my nerves,” Tamara glared at Erik.

Erik laughed harder, “Not so fast, baby girl. We just had a moment not too long ago. You want me to give ya’ a reminder?”

Tamara kissed her teeth and Erik puckered his lips to mimic their kissing followed by a deep chuckle. Tamara rolled her eyes at his childishness.

“C’mon, fuck those dead women. You know ya’ brother ain’t do that shit. Let’s just enjoy the night.”

“And you, right?” Tamara said.

“And me. We had this discussion two nights ago, baby girl. Finish your drink off so I can get ya’ a new one.”

“So, what is this then? A date? You didn’t even properly ask me on a date to even consider this a date—”

“It’s a way for you to see my world a lot closer. And for the record, princess, I would never bring ya’ here for a date.” Erik quipped.

“I don’t even think you know how to date,” Tamara fired back. 

Erik slipped in beside her now, boxing her in. Tamara refused to look at him as best as she could.

“This isn’t the place to take a woman like you on a date. You deserve more than this. Just because I own it, doesn’t mean I like it.” 

Tamara stared at Erik confused, “What?”

Erik exhaled frustratingly, “The only reason that I own this bar is because I have to. The vampire government forced me to. They wanted me to come up with a way to welcome humans for entertainment and fun. I’m bored with all of this…”

“Then sell it,” Tamara said, “Have ya’ thought about that?”

“Yes. But I would prefer that the vampire hierarchy not track my every move. This gives them a way to be distracted. Everything that goes on here stays here. That’s the rule. As long as I follow that rule, I’m all good.”

“What constitutes fun for you then?” 

Erik’s eyes scanned Tamara’s body. She finished off the rest of her drink, the blossoming warmth of the alcohol spreading through her. 

“Going for a long drive, flying, visiting a museum, cooking, reading, dancing…just to name a few…”

Tamara’s icy demeanor melted away. She was interested in knowing more about him besides the fact that he’s an attractive vampire.

Flying?” Tamara asked.

“Yeah,” Erik smirked, “It’s a rush.” 

“I–I didn’t know vampires could fly.”

“We can do a lot of things,” Erik said with a half smirk.

“Then why drive?” 

“When I’m with a human, I’d prefer to drive. Flying with you looking all pretty would be a disaster.”

Tamara giggled, “How considerate of you. Flying sounds peaceful.”

“I can show ya’ one night. Take you up into the clouds so you can see Louisiana from above.”

Tamara’s hazel eyes went wide with excitement. Erik couldn’t fight the smile that appeared on his face. She’s so adorable.

“I’m scared!” Tamara giggles, “I’ve never even been on a plane.” 

“You’ll love it.” Erik took one of Tamara’s hands, staring at her nails.

“You said cook…”

Erik licked his lips, “Yes.”

“Were you a chef?”

“I was a food artisan. My parents had their own shop where we would sell our own items.” 

“…so that means you could cook for me?”

“I will cook for you. I can tell ya’ when something is undercooked or overcooked. I could tell ya’ when something is toxic for ya’ to consume. I know what flavors work well together, how to make wine…better than most of these people who call themselves chefs.”

 The music was loud and aggressive and it had everyone crowding the dance floor. The pole dancers worked over time to entertain everyone. Bottle girls went around to supply more drinks, and Tamara had a few more herself. She was too shy to ask Erik for a dance. But she could see that he wanted to. Three Six Mafia had the whole club banging. 

A fang-banger with a banging body and a perfect weave approached their booth. Tamara was half-hidden by Erik finishing her drink, but still, they’d all seen him enter with her. She was gorgeous, like those models in music videos. She bent across the table with her titties almost popping out to get her mouth about two inches from Erik.

“Hi, dangerous,” She said with a sultry voice. She tapped Erik’s bottled blood with a long acrylic fingernail painted scarlet, “I have the real stuff.” She stroked her neck to make sure he got the point, “Why don’t you come with me so you can have a taste?”

Tamara took a deep breath to control her temper. Erik was her date. She waited to see what he would say and if it was anything other than turning down her advances, Tamara was leaving. She wanted to mush her in the face but she held absolutely still so she wouldn’t give Erik any cues on what she wanted. 

“Ya’ don’t see that I’m with someone? Just actin’ all bold coming over here?” Erik said with narrow eyes.

“She doesn't have any puncture marks on her neck,” the girl observed, acknowledging Tamara’s presence finally with an amused look as if Tamara being next to a vampire was a joke. As if she didn’t belong at Crimson Mist.

“Like I said, I’m with her.” Erik said, his voice not so gentle this time. He grabbed Tamara’s hand and rubbed it with his thumb, “I’m sure you’ll find what ya’ want somewhere else.” 

“They say you have a big dick to match those big fangs,” She licked her lips.

Tamara gawked at the girl. Erik wasn’t her man but the nerve of this bitch to boldly say that in front of her. Erik chuckled and it irritated Tamara. What the fuck is so funny?

“Don’t matter what you heard. You ain’t gettin’ nothing from me.” Erik said. 

“You don’t know what you’re missing,” She sat up, rolling her eyes at Tamara.

“Yes I do,” Erik said.

The girl kissed her teeth and stumbled away. 

“You okay?” Erik turned to check on Tamara.

“Yeah.” Tamara looked down at her empty glass.

“Want another drink?” Erik asked.

“Sure.”

Erik didn’t have to get up from his seat. He just raised his arm and a server; a human from what it looked like with bite marks on her neck as well, rushed over. She was hypnotized by Erik’s presence and Erik had to repeat the order to her. She hurried away and Tamara noticed more women looking towards the direction of their booth, even men. 

“You haven’t said anything since that chick came over to the table,” Erik said. 

“There’s nothing to say,” Tamara replied, with great self-control.

“Why’s that?” 

Tamara exhaled, “I shouldn’t have to say anything. You handled it respectfully and that’s all there is to it.” 

Erik smirked, “You could have sent her on her way.”

“I’m not the one to get into petty fights with a woman no matter how disrespectful she was. And I wanted to see how you would handle it. I would have been gone if it was the other way around, Erik. You should be happy about that.”

“I am happy. And you’re the only girl I want, Tammy.”

Tamara’s stomach did somersaults.

“Do you want me wit’ you?” Erik asked her in a hushed tone that was similar to a ghostly whisper. 

The hard planes of his body pressed into Tamara’s much smaller one, blocking her against the wall of the booth. The dim light above them made his skin glow and his perfect face was close to hers.

“What do you think?” Tamara looked from his lips to his eyes.

“Ma, I’m asking you,” Erik arched a brow, “That vampire over there scanned you twice.”

“You’re teasing me,” Tamara looked towards the direction Erik was focused on. 

The vampire he indicated was handsome, in fact, radiant; a faded cut with green eyes, tall and broad shouldered, sepia skin without fault and iridescent. He was wearing boots, jeans, and a vest. He had this vicious look in his eyes and when Tamara looked up at Erik he had the same look but it scared Tamara more. 

“His name is Dean,” Erik said. 

“How old is he?”

“I’ve known him since the 20s. I’m the oldest vampire in this bar.”

“He looks mean. Why is he glaring at me?”

Erik chuckled, “We’re all mean, Tamara. Very strong and very violent. And he’s glaring because he’s trying to control himself from coming over here and taking you away from me. He knows that won’t happen.”

Dean gave Erik a mischievous smirk and started towards them as if gliding across the floor. Tamara’s breath hitched and Erik didn’t move. Dean took a seat across from Erik and Tamara with a bottle of True Blood in his hand. 

“Erik. I expected to see you sitting on your throne.”

“Not tonight. I’m here with this beautiful girl.”

“Hmm, I can see that,” Dean smirked handsomely at Tamara, “What’s your name, gorgeous?”

“Tamara.” 

“Ooo, I like that. And you smell,” Dean’s green eyes sparkled with intensity, “Delicious.” 

“She’s mine.” Erik snapped. 

Dean stared at him with annoyance. 

“I didn’t come over here to take her from you, Erik. I know she’s yours. Every vampire in here knows. That’s why none of us came over here to take her ourselves. But I can’t deny a sexy woman when I see one.”

Tamara blushes. She tucked her chin bashfully at Dean’s compliment. He’s definitely a smooth talker. Erik was smoldering. Tamara’s hand on his arm kept him under control.

“I want to ask Dean a question if that’s okay?”

Erik’s jaw clenched, “Go ‘head.” 

“Have you seen either of these women in this bar?”

Dean studied the pictures with his thumb grazing his bottom lip. Erik wasn’t going to take his eyes off of Dean. He knew exactly what he was capable of. 

“I have been with this one,” Dean said coolly, tapping Dawn’s picture. “She liked pain.”

Dean shot a glance at Erik and there was an unspoken bond there that Tamara was curious about. 

“This one here,” he flicked his finger at Maudette’s picture, “was a pathetic creature.” 

“Thanks,” Tamara put her phone away.

“Erik, why haven’t you brought your friend around before?” Dean asked. 

“Me and Erik are new friends,” Tamara responded with a bright smile to him, seeing that Erik was too irritated to speak.

“Aren’t you so sweet,” Dean observed.

“Not especially,” Tamara said.

Dean stared at her with surprise. 

“Well, then maybe you should bring your new friend around more often. If she can handle Crimson Mist, she can handle anything.” 

Dean reached for Tamara’s hand and Erik’s hand zipped past her to grab a hold of Dean’s throat. Dean laughed and Erik’s fangs popped out making him look like a true monster. Tamara had a hand pressed to her chest and she was frozen in fear. The speed at which they move will never get old to her. Erik squeezed down on Dean’s neck and slammed him against the table, standing above him. Dean hisses at Erik with his sharp fangs. 

“She’s…mine. If ya’ don’t want to lose your head, I suggest you keep your fuckin’ hands to ya’ self.” Erik warned Dean with an animalistic growl.

“Erik…it’s okay, calm down,” Tamara said with a soothing voice. 

Erik let go and Dean stood up with a smirk. Tamara was given a full on view of his perfect six pack and the v-cut of his waistline. The table had a crack in it and Dean’s bottle of True Blood was knocked over.  Dean dipped his head in farewell at Tamara and glided into the crowd, disappearing from sight. He didn't want to stick around. It seemed as if everyone was immune to violence in Crimson Mist. 

“You seem to be telling everyone that I’m yours,” Tamara muttered. 

“It’s vampire tradition,” Erik explained again with annoyance, “If I pronounce you mine, no one else can try to feed on you.” 

“Feed on me, that’s a delightful phrase,” Tamara said sharply. 

“I’m protecting you,” Erik said, his voice not quite as neutral as usual.

“I don’t need—”

She was stopped short. Erik took her by the chin and he turned her head to him. He looked so hard into her eyes that she thought she had tunnels burned into her brain. 

“You don’t need protection? Is that what you were gonna say?”

“…I was, but then I thought about how you saved my life. And how this killer is murdering women who associate with vampires in any way.”

“…And you shouldn’t have to worry because I’m going to protect you. No one is going to hurt you, Tammy. I promise that. Do ya’ hear me?”

Tamara exhaled a shaky breath and then nodded her head in response. That wasn’t enough for Erik.

“Words?” Erik said.

“Yes.”

“Good girl.”

Tamara glanced at the people at the bar dancing and drinking and on the verge of hooking up. 

“Is that really the only thing on their minds?” Tamara said with a roll of her eyes.

“What are they thinking?” Erik questioned.

“Sex, sex, sex.” 

Every single person in that bar had sex on the brain. 

“What are you thinking about, Tamara?” 

“Not sex.” 

“Ya lyin’ to me?” Erik asked with a playful look.

“I was thinking about dancing but I don’t know if I should.”

Erik stood up from the booth and took off his moto jacket. He held out his hand for Tamara to take and she did. He led her out of the booth and to the dance floor. The sea of people parted for them and they found a spot in the middle of the dance floor under red lights. 

Rihanna- Work  had everyone moving their hips and when Tamara heard her new favorite song it was like liquid adrenaline being injected right into her bloodstream — just enough to make her tingle and start to move her own hips. She wound her hips in a circle, her arms came up and she felt loose and sexy. Erik stood there watching her with commanding eyes and a half smirk that showcased a deep dimple. His skin beneath the lights looked warm to the touch and the contours of his muscular arms had Tamara wishing he would wrap them around her.

While some danced, others stood around watching her move like a temptress with her hands in her hair and her slim-thick body moving with explosive sensuality. Tamara got so lost in the song that she felt as if she were the only one there. She threw her head back and did a little two step, eyes closed and a bite of her bottom lip. When Drake’s verse came up, Tamara placed her hands on her thighs and dipped her hips down to the floor where she did a little slow whine. 

Erik came up behind Tamara and held his hand out so he could guide her back up. She threw her head back to get the hair out of her eyes and giggled when she locked eyes with Erik’s intense expression. The song switched to PARTYNEXTDOOR- Wus Good/Curious

Good, lovin, feel so, numb

Ride me, 'til I'm, 'bout to, cum

I see, you are, 'bout to, clim-

-Ax so, oh, girl, don't be, shy

Is you ready?

Is you ready, baby?

You seem ready

You seem ready, baby

Girl tonight I won't be selfish

It is all for you (yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah)

Girl, my bad, I just can't help it (just can't help it)

Girl, you taste so…

Tamara faced Erik and he took her by the hand, twirling her so that her back was against his torso. Tamara could feel the powerfulness of his body against her feeble frame. She went still, allowing him to guide her movements. One of his cool hands came around to rest on her lower belly and he brought her left arm up to drape over his shoulder. He started doing a slow yet rhythmic two step and with the hand on her stomach he guided her to follow his movements. 

He pressed his face into her neck and Tamara’s heart pounded with nervous excitement. He exhaled through his mouth and then inhaled deeply through his nose and her eyes fluttered shut. The pressure from his hand forced her bubble butt to press into his crotch. The two step transitioned into Erik grinding on her, forcing Tamara to follow the motion of his hips. His free hand wrapped delicately around her neck, using his finger tips to stroke over her pulse. She felt the crotch of her black lace thong grow wetter. 

Hey, shawty, this what I'm here for, I'm ready (I'm ready)

Are you downtown when I'm round town, I'm ready (I'm ready)

Girl, just let me know what's good

Girl, just let me know what's good

Girl, you're beautiful

They won't know, they won't know what we do

Girl, you're beautiful

No, no, they won't know what we do…

The DJ did a dope mix and PARTYNEXTDOOR- Break From Toronto changed the slow motion movements to more of a bend over and pop that ass. Tamara turned to face Erik and she had her arms around his neck and they started grinding their hips against each other. Vibing to the song with smiles on their faces and their foreheads pressed together. 

That smile on your face

Makes it easy to trust you

Those in- (yeah), those in- (yeah, oh), those in- (yeah, oh)

This what 'Sauga feel like in the night time (ooh)

Watch what she do when the light shine (ooh)

Drunk niggas tryna talk in the strip club

Shawty silhouette looks like a dollar sign (ooh)

Caught-caught up (caught up)

That's just how a nigga brought up (brought up)

Blow ones for you loonie ass niggas (ass niggas)

Straight bills for you toonie ass niggas (ass niggas)

M-M-My niggas bigger than the bouncer

Roll up in the bitch still smell like an ounce (like a ounce)

Right quick, right quick

Tight jeans on, so she feels my shit, ayy (feel my shit)

Tell me somethin' good, baby

Tell me somethin', tell me somethin' good, shawty (yeah)

Come bring it to the hood, baby

Bring it-bring it back to hood, shawty (ooh, ooh, ooh)

Tamara suddenly becomes bashful and hides her face against Erik’s chest. He chuckled and wrapped his arms around her. 

“Why are you acting so shy right now, baby girl?” 

“I’ve never done this–dancing on a guy before!”

“C’mere…”

The song changed to something Tamara wasn’t familiar with but it was definitely bounce music. Erik knew the song and he grabbed Tamara by her hips, turning her again and he arched her back. She gasped in shock, one hand on her waist and the other on her shoulder keeping her in that position. It was more of an ass shaking song. Jealous, envious women watched Tamara twerk on Erik, wishing it were them being bent over. 

Tamara looked back at him and his lips parted and she could see his fangs. His tongue dragged over the pointy tips, lips looking moist, eyes unblinking and scanning her body dangerously. She flipped her hair over and brought one hand above her head, ass bouncing on his stiffness poking her in the booty. She swayed her hips with each bounce, feeling tipsy and getting lost in the music, mistaking his iron hard dick for a nonexistent belt. Erik held her hand up and let her do her thing, tilting his head to watch the way her ass moved in that cinching dress. 

“Damn,” Erik spoke gruffly against her ear,“you got some ass on you, girl…best fuckin’ dancer I’d ever seen.” 

Tamara blushes, “Thank you!” 

“I ain’t know you could make it move like that, ma!”

“Now you know!” Tamara shouted over the music. 

When the song was over, Tamara couldn’t look Erik in the eye. He was all over her. He pulled her into his embrace with a hand on her ass and his other hand smoothing her hair out of her face. He brought his lips to her ear, the hand on her ass now rubbing up and down her back.

“You wanna get outta here?” He whispered in her ear.

She looked up at him with a bat of her lashes. He had a hungry look in his eyes.

“Yeah…” she spoke with a feathery voice. 

They had driven back to Tamara’s home already, but Erik had Tamara straddling him in his back seat. They had been kissing for a while now, Erik’s white beater off and the straps to Tamara’s dress hanging from her shoulders. He had her hair in his right fist and his left hand rubbing all over her ass. Tamara combed her fingers through his locs, amazed at how soft his hair is. Heads swiveling from left to right and they couldn’t get enough of each other. 

“Erik,” Tamara looked down at him, “I want you too.” 

Erik’s onyx eyes blazed with desire. He pulled her in and his lips found hers again. Harder, wetter, and maybe this could lead to even more. Tamara wanted it badly and Erik wanted it more than her. He’d been waiting to have her. Waiting for his moment to make her his. He was so close. She still needed to open up, and Tamara wasn’t an easy girl. He loved that about her. 

Tamara broke the kiss again which frustrated Erik.

“I have to go. I didn’t expect to be out this late.”

“Work?” 

Tamara nodded her head solemnly. 

“Call out,” Erik tilted his head at her with a bite of his lower lip, “For me?” 

“I can’t. I picked this shift up.” Tamara whined.

“What shift is it, Tammy?”

“…night.”

Erik kisses his teeth, “Aight, ma. How ‘bout I come see ya’ tomorrow? We can go for a drive…I’m staying here for the weekend to check on my new place…”

Tamara looked at him with confusion, “New place?”

“A smaller home away from home basically. St. Tammany is where I wanna have a private place for myself. I purchased a home right across the cemetery and it’s being fixed up as we speak.”

“Do you have other homes all over the world?” Tamara asked.

“I do…one in Jamaica, Haiti, Cuba, Nigeria, LA, New York, Miami, St. Thomas…”

“Wow.” Tamara was amazed. 

“Hm,” Erik chuckled, “I’d like to show you them one day…”

“Tamara climbed off of Erik’s lap and sat next to him. He refused to let her open her own door. He left the car and jogged around to open the door for her, holding his hand out for her to take. Erik picked her up and twirled her around again before placing her on her feet. 

“Goodnight, Tammy,” Erik whispered before giving her one last kiss.

Tamara stood on her tip toes and rested her cheek against his for a moment. 

“Thanks for taking me.”

Erik grabbed her hand, swinging it as they walked up to the house. Within the porch, Tamara opened her door while Erik waited for her to make it inside. She looked back at him over her shoulder and waved, Erik returning the gesture. Tamara closed her door and pressed her back against it.

Meanwhile, Erik was driving to his nearly finished home. It was an Acadian style home which is a true representation of the Louisiana style homes. Influenced by French and Canadian styles, these houses feature steeply pitched roofs with dormer windows, and large covered porches or galleries, often wrapping around the house. Acadian homes often have raised foundations to help protect from flooding, and the exteriors have shutters and decorative brackets. Interiors often have high ceilings with exposed wood beams, and are designed for open, airy living in the hot and humid Louisiana climate.

The interior is old world gothic and Victorian while his other home is more minimalist with steel. He had a new coffin for Lana and himself installed in the basement while the rooms had beds with automatic windows that were timed to open during nightfall. Truthfully, Erik purchased this home secretly to be away from the other vampires and Tia. He wanted to spend time with Tamara as much as he could without everyone knowing where he was. Lana much preferred the other home, so Erik would only spend time there if work was needed to be done. 

He walked around the luxury double-staircase foyer with optimism, the polished maple hardwood beneath his feet causing his footsteps to sound more pronounced. Deep purple, black, and gray decorated the first level. Each of the five bed rooms has its own complimentary color such as maroon, and navy blue but black will always be the main scheme. He had a feeling Tamara didn’t like his home back in New Orleans because it  held a memory she didn’t want to recall. They could make new memories here.

Erik took a seat on a black sofa throne chair in solid mahogany wood, Crystal tufting, and a gloss black finish. His black fireplace was handcrafted to look like skulls giving it a more haunting look. He reminisced about the evening, unable to stop himself from smiling. Tamara looked stunning. He loved when she dressed up. He couldn’t get over how beautiful her hair is. She looked amazing. Dancing with her made him feel alive again. Kissing her made him fall in love with the act all over again. As much as he wanted to make love to her, he will be patient. 

Erik wanted the time to be right for her. She’s a virgin and that made it harder for Erik to give into his urges. He’ll have plenty of time to fuck her, but first he needed to take things slow and ease her into what sex with him will be like. Erik stood up to head up the stairs to the master bedroom. When he entered the room decorated in black and gold, Erik activated the automatic windows all over the home and undressed. Naked, he climbed in bed beneath the silk black sheets and stared up at the high ceiling. 

Erik shut his eyes and a sensation overcame him. Eyes remaining closed, Erik could sense Tamara dreaming. It was like a deep psychological bond and he could feel it growing stronger. Since Tamara drank his blood the night he saved her life, it created an eternal bond/spirit union between them. He can feel the strong sexual and romantic energy, and it was difficult for him not to go to her and fulfill what she truly desires. 

He couldn’t see exactly what she was dreaming about, and he desperately wished he could. She was in distress, tossing and turning, unable to peacefully sleep because of the nature of her sex dreams. 

Mmmmmahhhhunh…

Erik’s eyes shot open. 

Was this really a dream or…

Erik…Erik…Erik…

He sat up, silk sheets pooling around his toned hips.

Erik rolled his neck. Every muscle in his body flexed.

Yes…right there…don’t stop…please…

He couldn’t take it. 

Erik was out of his bed and with only his jeans on, he sped out of the house and across the cemetery to Tamara’s.

Back at Tamara’s, within her bedroom, evening air trickling in, Tamara is dressed in a white babydoll lingerie nightgown, her curls resting on top of her head with a satin scrunchie. The cotton sheets are kicked to the foot of the bed, her legs spread open and one hand between her legs, rubbing her clit. Hard nipples pointed to the ceiling, Tamara has her eyes closed, envisioning her vampire between her legs devouring her. The way he moved his tongue over hers when they kissed let her know that he knew how to use it well.

“Fuck,” Tamara moaned softly. 

She brought two fingers down to her entrance and sank them deeply inside. She couldn’t believe how wet she was. Tamara sat up on one elbow, knees to her chest, toes curled, and bottom lip between her teeth. 

Visions of his black eyes staring up at her from between her legs has her walls quivering. 

“Eat me…taste me…” 

She felt her body begin to tense up. Tamara’s mouth dropped open and she came all over her fingers unexpectedly. She needed more. That was her second orgasm and she knew she could give more. 

“I can’t stop…” she moaned.

This is the most she’d ever masturbated.

“I’m so wet for you…”

Just when she was about to attack her clit with her fingers again, she could hear a sound at her window. Sitting up, Tamara fixed her nightgown and climbed down from her bed. Opening her curtains, she jumped back in shock at Erik looking up at her. He’d been throwing broken branches at her window. 

“Erik?” 

“Can I come up?” He asked.

Tamara looked from left to right before her eyes fell on him again.

“Yes. I’ll get the door—”

Erik had scaled the wall and crawled into the room. 

Tamara was stunned. 

“How did you?—”

Erik put a finger to her lips. He looked down at her through the curtain of locs against his forehead. Tamara noticed that he wasn’t wearing any shoes and he was shirtless. Erik inhaled and he followed the scent to Tamara’s fingers.

“Erik?—”

He grabbed her hand and sucked on her fingers. Tamara’s breath hitched. He sucked hard, Tamara growing weak in the knees. 

“You taste…so good…”

He opened his eyes and Tamara could see a red ring around his pitch black irises. 

Tamara looked up at Erik confused. 

“I could hear you…playing with yourself.”

She opened her mouth but no words came out. Tamara looked away from him, embarrassed to even meet his piercing gaze.

“How? Were you standing outside my window the entire time?” She asked with a timid voice. 

“Nah,” Erik touched her cheek, “Remember the night I saved your life?”

“Yes,” Tamara leaned into his touch.

“You drank my blood. When you do that, it creates a bond between the vampire and the human. It’s similar to the bond of a maker and progeny but the only difference is I can’t call on you.”

“Really?” Tamara was shocked, “So that means…”

“Yes,” Erik smirked, “I know you’ve been dreaming about me. At least up until now…”

Tamara sat down on her bed and Erik sat next to her. 

“You were pleasuring yourself.” Erik said.

Tamara toyed with the lace trimming on her nightgown. 

“I was,” She shot him a quick glance before looking back down, “This is so embarrassing.”

Erik scooted closer, lifting her chin.

“Tell me about your fantasy. Please?”

Tamara looked him in the eyes and exhaled.

“I was…fantasizing about you…between my legs…”

Her natural pheromones smelled so good it triggered his fangs to pop out. Tamara flinched slightly but soon she reached out to touch one of his fangs. 

“Tamara,” Erik grabbed her hand, “Can I watch you?” 

“W—watch me?” She felt her face heat up.

“I’ll sit right here and watch you touch yourself.”

After an internal struggle, she slowly  laid back and nervously looked up at Erik.

“I can’t sleep when you keep moaning in my ear.” Erik said.

Tamara fixed the straps to her nightgown and one shaky hand came down to lift her nightgown. He couldn’t see her pussy when she dropped her legs open, but he could see the wetness she created in her white panties. She turned her head away from Erik, eyes closed while her fingers rubbed slow circles around her clit.

Erik sat there with his fists clenched, eyes low and his mouth watering to taste her. He’d never wanted a pussy in his mouth this bad since his wife. She smelled out of this word. A pleasant floral scent wafted from her skin and she smelled like honey in between. She whimpered, refusing to moan, and it frustrated Erik. He could see her hand moving rapidly. And Erik could hear how gushy and wet she was. 

“Fuck, Tamara, you sound so sexy…it’s okay to moan…it’s just me and you in here…you look so beautiful…”

She turned her head towards him finally. The tops of her breasts were teasing his eyes. She was pleasantly horny and being such a naughty girl. She licked her lips at him and that pretty mouth fell open. 

“That pussy is so wet…how do you want me to eat that pussy, baby?”

“I…”

Her legs shook and Erik grunted.

“That was my third orgasm.” Tamara giggled into her pillow.

“Take your panties off.”

Tamara sat up and slipped her panties off. 

“Give them to me.”

She slid them over to Erik and he snatched them up, smelling the soaked crotch of her panties. She watched him, aroused at how much he loved her smell. He placed them within the pocket of his jeans and looked over at her. Tamara gained enough confidence to place her fingers against his lips. Erik licked them while his eyes were locked on hers. 

“Tamara…”

She tilted her head at him. Erik’s cold hand reached out to stroke the gold anklet on her left ankle.

“What does the E stand for?”

“It’s for my middle name. Elicia.” 

“That’s pretty,” His fingers dragged up the back of her calf, “pretty just like you…”

“Erik?” 

“Just say the word, Tamara, and I’ll taste you. I’ll eat you and make you cum…”

She stared at him with desperation. Erik waited, his eyes searching hers. 

“Yes,” She whispered. 

Say less. Erik had her on her back in top speed. He climbed on top of her and kissed her deeply, passionately, hungrily. Tamara raked her fingers through his locs, pulling on them whenever Erik would tongue her down. He used his fingers to gently pull the straps of her nightgown down one by one, revealing her c cup breasts with perfectly round areolas and small nipples. He studied them closely — every blemish, freckle, and mole. 

“Beautiful,” Erik looked at her, “You’re beautiful, Tammy.”

He let her hair down and continued to trail his kisses down her neck. Tamara moaned softly, thrusting her chest up. Erik kisses down the side of her neck, over her jawline, between her breasts and then each nipple. Tamara cupped the back of his head when he finally wrapped his lips around a nipple. Her head went back and she whimpered repeatedly.

The pounding of her heart was deafening. Erik couldn’t stop it if he could. The veins in her breasts aided in the hardening of her nipples against his tongue. He imagined the taste of her blood on her breasts. The constant cries and whimpers had his dick so hard. Erik popped a nipple out of his mouth and Tamara looked down at him.

“Why did you stop?” She fussed between breaths.

“I want you to take this dress off…please?”

Erik wasn’t used to saying please.

“Okay,” Tamara sat up, breasts mouthwatering.

She lifted the nightgown over her head and sat it on the bed next to her. Erik’s eyes dragged down her body. She had the softest most delicate skin. The most beautiful brown skin. Erik could see the top of her pussy and it was completely hairless. Smooth like satin. 

“Lay back for me, baby girl.”

Tamara made herself comfortable on her elbows. Erik was kneeling above her with her legs pressed together. 

“I’m nervous,” Tamara admitted.

Erik kisses both of her knees to relax her.

“There’s nothing to be nervous about. Open up for me, Tammy.”

She chewed on her bottom lip before spreading her thighs slowly. He could see her legs trembling. The more she opened her legs, the stronger the smell of her sex. It took all of his supernatural strength to hold back from forcing her legs open and pinning them back at the ankles with brunt force. He had to remind himself that she is inexperienced with this. He had to ease her into the pleasures. 

When her legs finally fell open, Erik let out a deep groan. It was possible to have the most perfect pussy. Fat, juicy, and a work of art that needed to be a canvas painting in his room. The wishbone shape of her inner folds were engorged with her arousal and he could literally see the remnants of cum leaking from her tight opening. He could kiss this pussy all night long. He needed all that pink in his mouth right now.

“Mmm…mmm…mmm.” 

Erik dipped his head between her legs and started kissing her outer lips. She watched him with curiosity, sweet moans filling the room. He resurfaced, looking up at her with deep desire. 

“Thank you for giving me the honor to eat this beautiful pussy.” Erik said.

He used his entire mouth and began sucking. She’d never felt this before. It was intense. He sucked everywhere. She sat there on her elbows watching him with timid eyes and parted lips. Whenever he would suck on her clit, Tamara would whimper with a tremble of her inner thighs. His tongue flicked and dragged all over her pussy, loving the way it tasted. 

“Please don’t stop,” Tamara whispered.

She placed one hand on the back of his head when he was back on her clit again. Tamara was startled by Erik tapping her wet entrance with his finger. She sounded like a puddle down there. 

“Erik,” Tamara thrust her hips, tilting her pussy into his mouth further. He stopped sucking her clit to look at her.

“Whatchu want?” Erik asked. 

Tamara looked anywhere but at him, “I want you to finger me…”

He really wanted to stuff her with some big dick.

“You gotta look at me and ask, Tammy.”

She looked at him, “I want you to finger me.”

“I’ll give you whatever you want.”

With his middle finger, he took his time sinking in. She instantly clamped down on his finger. When Erik went to pull his finger back before pushing it back in, her walls were acting like a suction. He could only imagine how that would feel on his dick. Mmm.

“You’re so tight, baby…”

He couldn’t believe how wet and tight she was. He tried adding his ring finger and Tamara hissed. 

“Did I hurt you?” 

“Your fingers are thicker than mine.”

“I’ll go slower.”

She relaxed as best as she could. Erik needed to add another finger. The more she opened up, the easier it would be to fit his dick in. He’s girthy with length and a fat tip to match. Too much for Tamara to handle right now. 

“Tammy…you gotta keep your legs open and out of the way.”

Or I’ll do it for you

“I can’t help it–oh my goddess—”

He had two fingers knuckle deep. Erik wasted no time pumping. He kissed along her inner thighs and watched her face. She had her eyes closed and her head thrown back. Her breasts were bouncing and her hair was frizzy and wild. She was mesmerizing.

“You are making a big fuckin’ mess on my fingers, baby…look at this pretty pussy.”

Tamara watched Erik finger her. In and out, in and out, she moaned his name and all over his hand she came. Erik savagely licked his hand and the cum from her pussy. Sitting up, Erik with his speed pinned her legs back. He smirked down at her before going in to eat her again. 

“Erik,” Tamara moaned. 

She didn’t want him to stop. He had her clit between his lips again and she could feel herself getting close again. His primal eyes were locked on her hazel eyes and it was the most erotic experience. He even did it when he flicked his tongue over her clit at top speed. It felt like a vibrator. She stared at him with tears of pleasure rolling down her cheeks and a strangled moan escaping her mouth. Her toes flexed towards the ceiling and she began to convulse. Her struggling moans were music to his ears.

He stuck his tongue so far up her pussy, he sucked her up everywhere, he licked and licked until he covered every inch of that pussy. His fingers went deep and he sucked them dry just to do it again. His princess was famished. Erik looked at her with his lips dripping with her cum and what would make this even better is if he could only bite into her.

Sleep overcame her within seconds and Erik watched her sleep for an hour before he covered her with her blanket and kissed her cheek. She had enough for one night and needed her rest. He fixed his erection and patted his back pocket to make sure her panties were still there. He didn’t want to leave her, but he needed to get some sleep himself. The day was approaching and he began to feel weak. 

Erik climbed out of the window and jumped down, landing on his feet. With one final look up at her window, he sped off into the night and back to his new home. 

Nana Sylvia was sitting in the living room the following afternoon, her stories on the TV and a fresh glass of homemade lavender lemonade in her hand. She had one elbow propped up on the back of the couch, watching Tamara pounce around the house like she was on cloud 9. Now, she’s dressed for her shift, same heavenly smile on her face. 

“You’ve been in a really great mood, Sugar. The date was lovely?”

Tamara took a seat next to her grandmother for a second so she could enjoy a glass of lavender lemonade herself. 

“It was great, Nana. I had a lovely time.”

Tamara smiled into her glass.

“I hope he’ll still talk to The Descendants next Friday evening about The Revolt.” 

Tamara forgot to confirm that with him last night. She was so distracted with the kissing and the head…

“He’s stopping by Marco’s tonight. I’ll ask him then, okay?” 

“Thank you, baby,” Nana Sylvia shut the TV off and stood up, “Let me gon’ on and get myself together. A friend of mine is taking me to the farmer’s market in about an hour.”

“I should get going too.” 

Tamara grabbed both glasses and washed them while Nana Sylvia went to freshen up. She twirled the sponge inside one of the glasses, staring into space. She kept replaying last night’s events. She kept repeating the way Erik ate her pussy and fingered her. Despite the blush on her face, her legs are weak and her pussy is sore. She took a soothing bath and it helped a little. If this is what it felt like after fingering, she couldn’t imagine the discomfort when they finally have sex. 

She quickly rinsed the glasses out and sat them upside down in the dish rack, drying her hands off on her shorts before grabbing her work bag and leaving the house. It was almost 3 in the afternoon and she had to hurry so she wouldn’t be late. In her beat up car, she started it up and drove off. Her eyes combed the trees across the cemetery to see if she could make out his new home but the trees were so overgrown it acted like a wall blocking it from view. 

For an afternoon, Marco’s Bar and Grill was surprisingly busy. Tamara parked in her usual spot near the back door and slipped inside after Terry came out to empty trash. The country music filled her ears as Tamara combed through a pile of clean aprons, folding one in half before tying it around her slender waist. She moved carefully to the front of the house and clocked in, looking up to find Tara at the beer tap filling a glass for Detective Bellefleur. 

“This is your third beer, Andy. Aren’t you on duty?” 

Andy mumbled something before walking away back to his seat. 

“Fuckin’ drunk red neck—Tammy!”

Tara squeezed Tamara tight.

“Bitch, I thought you were off today?”

Tamar grabbed a note pad and pin from a basket. 

“I was. But since everything with Dawn and the new girl’s availability, Marco asked if I could work tonight.”

“How ya grandmama and dem’?”

“All is good with Nana. Lloyd I hadn’t seen in almost two days. The police won’t leave him alone.”

“I’m guessin’ that’s why Andy is sticking ‘round. They've been questioning a lot of men in this area. I just think Andy has it out for Lloyd.”

“How ya’ figure?” Tamara questioned.

“He’s envious. Lloyd is handsome, in shape, and a pussy magnet. Andy is the opposite of that.”

“Well, if that’s the reason then Andy can go fuck himself. Can’t control being ugly and unwanted.”

Tara laughed boisterously. 

“What side does Arlene have?”

“She’s taking care of this area.”

Tamara walked over to her side around near the pool table and locked eyes with Marco chatting it up with a regular. Marco’s chocolate brown eyes locked with hers and he winked at her. He’s wearing a flannel with the sleeves rolled up and a white T-shirt underneath, faded light blue jeans, and his lucky pair of cowboy boots. His usually low cut with waves had grown out some and it’s sprinkled with gray hair to match his stubble.

Tamara walked up to an older woman she recognized but didn’t remember her name. She’s one of Nana's friends. Tamara took her order and walked around to the other tables to see if anyone needed anything. Back at the bar, Tamara went to the server’s window and called off orders to the cooks. She blew a kiss to Lafayette and took her place next to Tara with her drink tray ready. 

“This is gonna be a long night,” Tamara fussed. 

Tara noticed how she kept checking her phone and fidgeting like she was growing impatient. It was bothering Tara so much that she had to stop what she was doing to call Tamara out on it.

“Girl, what the hell is wrong wit’ you?!”

“I’m sorry,” Tamara smiled, “I just can’t wait to see him.”

“That vampire?” Tara asked with disgust.

“Don’t do that, Tara. I really like him…”

Tamara never felt so giddy. 

“What do you like about him?”

Tamara couldn’t contain her blushing.

“He protects me, he’s an amazing kisser, he can dance and I love to dance. He’s smart, charming, strong…among other things.”

Tamara giggled at Tara’s expression.

“Bitch…you let him hit?”

“No–no. Not yet at least,” Tamara looked around before getting closer to Tara, “he went down on me.”

“What?!” Tara shouted. 

Eyes fell on them and Tamara had to shush her. 

“What? Tamara Elicia Bordelon!”

She couldn’t stop laughing. 

“I can’t believe…” Tara raised her brows, “You nasty girl…”

“I’m still not over it. Tara…it was amazing.”

Tamara leaned against the counter and closed her eyes with contentment. 

“I can’t wait to see him,” Tamara said with an angelic voice.

“Why don’t you snap out of it and take these drinks. You don’t want Marco thinkin’ something is wrong. This conversation ain’t over, Tammy!”

Tamara took her drink tray and went back to work. After clearing her tray, she slipped past Detective Bellefleur’s table. 

“Tammy! I need a word with ya!”

Tamara stopped and looked at him with annoyance.

“Whatever you want to discuss can wait until I’m finished working.” Tamara sassed.

“Where has that brother of yours been? Out getting himself into trouble?”

Tamara sat her tray on the table and leaned in to Andy.

“Did you just interrogate me while I’m at work and you’re off duty?” 

Andy’s pudgy face went red with anger.

“Let’s get one thing straight, Andy. My brother didn’t do this—”

“And that vampire?” He argued.

“AND Erik. Did you go to other people’s jobs and question them or did they come down to the station?”

“I offered for ya’ to come to the station—”

“And I’ve been busy. Still doesn’t give ya’ the right to ask me questions for everyone to hear.”

“When I’m detective it does!” Andy fired back. 

(This freak and her vampire know something I can feel it)

(She’s so defensive. I bet she knows her brother is guilty and she’s covering for him)

(Ever since that vampire came to St. Tammany there’s been nothing but murders)

(Wouldn’t be surprised if she ends up dead next)

Tamara stormed off and bumped past Marco accidentally to get to his office. She slammed the door shut and the bar seemed to go still after that. 

“Nothin’ to see here!” Marco yelled.

Tara rushed from behind the bar and she was making a beeline for Andy.

“You son of a bitch! How dare you—”

“Tara….calm down, go back to the bar. I’ll handle this.”

Tara’s chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. She looked at Marco and then back at Andy before going to comfort Tamara. 

“Andy. What the hell did you do to my waitress?”

Andy gave a nonchalant shrug in response.

“You’re cut off. No more beer. It’s time for you to go.”

“You can’t throw me out! I’m the law!”

Andy slammed his beefy fist down on the table. The kitchen doors swung open and Lafayette and Andy’s cousin, Terry, came over to the table. 

“Andy, c’mon cuz. You gotta go. I already called Auntie. She knows you’re coming.” 

“This is some bullshit,” Andy stood up and pulled out his wallet, slapping down two crumpled up bills, “Fuck all of you!”

Marco, Lafayette, and Terry watched Andy storm out of the bar. 

“Let me go see how Tamara’s doing.”

Marco walked to the back and when he approached his office door, he knocked twice and waited. He could hear shuffling and then Tara opened the door with a hand on her hip.

“Is his drunk ass gone?” She asked.

“Yeah,” Marco slipped past Tara, “Tammy?”

Tamara was lying on his leather brown sofa with her knees to her chest. Tara left them alone and shut the door. Marco sat next to her and started stroking her arm with his hand. 

“It’s gonna be alright. He’s gone now.”

“I could hear everyone else’s thoughts…”

She sat up, rubbing her eyes. He could tell she’d been crying.

“Andy pissed me off so bad that I let my guard down. People really think Lloyd is responsible. They’re calling him a murderer. They think Erik put a curse on the town.”

“Tammy, you can’t let these people get to you. All they do is talk, talk, talk. Nothin’ else better to do.”

Marco took his thumb to wipe away her tears. He studied her beautiful face with longing and his eyes fell to her lips. He desperately wanted to kiss her. 

“I am worried about ya’. I wouldn’t forgive myself if anything happened to ya’”

Tamara gave Marco a gentle smile before hugging him. Marco slowly wrapped his arms around her. He pressed his nose into her mane and inhaled. Hibiscus and coconut. It was lovely.

“Thanks for always checking in on me—”

Marco pressed his lips against Tamara’s soft lips. The sound of their lips smacking when he broke the kiss to look at her had his stomach fluttering. Tamara stared at him with shock, unsure of what to say at that moment.

“Say something, Tammy.”

She turned away from Marco and stood up. Marco followed her and waited for her to speak. 

“Why—why did you kiss me?” She questioned.

“Because I love you, Tammy—”

“I’m Erik’s.” 

Marco closed his eyes. 

“This never happened, okay?”

Tamara rushed out of the office and Marco kicked the side of his desk angrily. 

Tamara paced back and forth outside of his office door. She couldn’t believe her boss just kissed her. And he loves her? She took a deep breath in and held it for three seconds before walking back out to the front. When she got there, Tara was at the bar mixing drinks and there stood Luke with his tall, brawny frame. He was wearing a distressed muscle tee and denim cut offs with his work boots on his feet. His tawny skin was covered in sweat and he had his cap on backwards, the Bordelon fishing logo printed on it. 

“Hey, Tammy,” He smiled at her, “How’s everything?”

Tamara returned the smile and nodded her head that everything is good. 

“Marco had to get Andy out of here. He was being real disrespectful questioning Tammy about Lloyd. Where is Lloyd anyway?”

“He’s laid up with some chick. I covered for him today at the dock. I’m ‘bout to go cook up some crawfish for my mama and dem.”

Tamara was too distracted to even pay attention. Marco walked out and he glanced over at her with sad eyes before entering the kitchen. 

“Tammy?” Luke called out to her.

“Yeah—sorry–I gotta get back to work. Good seeing ya’ Luke.”

“Hey,” Luke grabbed her hand gently, “Don’t forget about lookin’ into a new car. I spotted your car out back and we really should get ya’ a new one.” 

“Shit, I forgot all about that—I’ll let you know.”

She squeezed Luke’s hand affectionately and walked off.

“You got it bad Luke,” Tara teased.

“And what about you and Lloyd?” Luke asked.

“We ain’t talkin’ ‘bout me and Lloyd!”

“Mhm,” Luke took a seat at the bar. He grabbed the neck of his bottle of Bayou Peche IPA and took a swig while his eyes never left Tamara, “I’d like to take her out sometime. Wine and dine her. Spoil her.”

“Not if your mama can help it,” Tara laughed.

“Ain’t my mama business.”

Tara shakes her head and walks away to the other end of the bar to make drinks.

As the day turned into night, the bar became overwhelmingly busy. Lloyd showed up with Luke and a couple of their friends. Tamara noticed a pretty girl clinging to Lloyd’s arm and Tamara had never seen this girl around before. She’s 5’5, brown skin, sandy brown hair styled in a sleek bun, and a tight lime green dress hugging her curves. She was covered in tattoos and piercings and had this commanding energy about her. Tara spotted Lloyd and when her eyes fell on the girl she rolled her eyes and went back to yelling at some drunk man.

“I’ll be out with your hamburger and fries,” Tamara rushed over to the servers window, “Hamburger with Cajun fries!”

“Coming!” Lafayette shouted. 

The doors opened up and Tamara turned around just in time to see Erik strolling in. He wore a black muscle tee with a graphic of Billie Holiday on it. He had on gray denim joggers and on his feet gray and black Jordan’s. He accessorized with his favorite tungsten jewelry and added multilayered leather bracelets to his wrists. He stood there, staring Tamara up and down before curling a finger for her to come to him. She walked up to him and Erik tilted her chin up before leaning down to kiss her. 

Everyone in that bar watched him tongue her down. Tara had to remake a beer because she had overflowed it. Lloyd and Luke watched with disapproval. Marco was furious. And the other patrons whispered. Tamara refused to let her shields down. 

“That was unexpected,” she whispered.

Erik smirked, “I missed you.” 

“I missed you too,” Tamara tucked her chin and batted her lashes bashfully. 

Erik grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips to kiss. Tamara’s lips parted and she felt her eyes glaze over with desire. 

“I’ll be waiting for you.” 

Tamara slipped her hand out of Erik’s and he tapped her on the booty with a bite of his lip for good measure. As he walked with his sinful gait, his onyx eyes scanned the bar. People seemed to cower beneath his gaze, some were in a trance, others were angry with his presence. Erik didn’t give a fuck about any of it. He flopped down in a vacant booth seat with his legs swinging and his arms draped over the back of the  seat. Tamara brought him out a chilled bottle of O negative and placed it in front of him.

“Figured you might be thirsty,” She smiled at him.

Erik sat up and with his hand he snaked it up the back of her leg and over her ass. Tamara rocked back and forth with a big smile. 

“Thank you, princess.”

“You’re welcome. Hey, I meant to ask. Would you still be able to talk to The Descendants at the church next Friday evening? Nana wanted me to ask.” 

“Of course.” Erik opened his True Blood.

“Okay,” Tamara lingered, “I’ll be back to check on you.” 

Erik chuckled.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, baby. Go ahead.”

Tamara turned to leave with a pout. She made it back to the bar and locked eyes with Tara who was giving her a ‘we need to talk’ look. The doors opened with a hard shove and in walked the three vampires Tamara dreaded ever seeing again.

Diane, Bruce, and Woo.

They walked in like they owned the place. Tamara glanced over at Erik nervously and he was already looking at her. All three vampires made their way over to Erik and made themselves comfortable. Tamara gathered courage and strolled over to the table. Erik’s eyes shot up at her and he didn’t look happy about her coming up to the table. 

“If it isn’t the pretty little human!” Diane laughed, “So, this is where you work? How adorable.”

Bruce and Woo laughed.

“Can I get ya’ anything?” Tamara asked, clicking her pen.

“Already got our meals covered, darling. But thanks for being so sweet.” Bruce said.

“Erik,” Diane reached out to stroke his hand, “We’ve been looking for you. Wanna get out of here and have some fun like the old days?”

“Got a real treat for you back at Tia’s,” Woo said.

“Why do I get the feeling this isn’t a request?” Erik said.

Tamara could sense something was off.

“Nothing suspicious going on! We just miss you,” Diane drapes her long leg over Erik and licks the side of his face, “Why don’t you come and play with us?”

Tamara squeezed her notepad hard. She glared at Diane for the audacity. 

“Get your leg off of him.” Tamara spoke with rage.

Woo and Bruce exchanged looks. 

“Excuse me?” Diane turned and looked at Tamara as if she lost her mind, “What the fuck did you say to me?”

“Back off, Diane,” Erik warned.

Diane looked from Tamara to Erik and laughed.

“Aww. You two are together?! How cute!”

Tamara’s eyes twitched. She looked at Erik who was just sitting there allowing Diane to throw herself all over him. What was he doing?

“Erik?” Tamara folded her arms.

“Why don’t you get back to waiting tables, honey.” 

“There’s a stain on that one there,” Bruce pointed to the table behind her.

Tamara didn’t hide the hurt in her eyes. Erik clenched his jaw and held her gaze. 

“Why don’t we go pay Tia a little visit.” Diane whispered to Erik, “She’d be happy to know you’re doing just fine with your little obsession.” 

Tamara stood confused. The name Tia stood out to her. She locked eyes with Erik again to see if he would speak but to her disappointment, he remained silent. What was he so afraid of? He’s older and stronger than all three of them. He could take them all out with a snap of his fingers. 

“Erik, what’s going on?” Tamara asked.

“Go back to work, Tammy.” Erik replied with a stern voice.

Diane, Bruce, and Woo slid out of the booth, looking down on Tamara. Erik stood up and Diane wrapped an arm around his waist. Tamara glared at him and Diane cocked her head to the side, studying Tamara’s face with amusement. 

“It’s okay, little human chick, he’ll only be gone a little while.”

Diane’s hand strokes Tamara’s cheek and she slapped her hand away causing Diane to grip her wrist. Erik grabbed Diane by the back of her neck and flung her across the room where she landed on her back hard. Lloyd, Luke, and Marco had pool sticks in their hands, making their way over to them. Bruce and Woo turned on Erik, crouching down in an attack stance with their fangs. Diane moved with accelerated speed and snatched Tamara up by her hair. 

She screamed, gaining Erik’s attention who tried rushing to her aid but Bruce body slammed him on the table, breaking it in the process. Erik expertly reversed so that he was on top of Bruce and he lifted Bruce up by his neck with a sharp piece of broken wood to his chest, ready to strike. Woo tried to lunge at Erik but Erik was too swift, knocking Woo back so hard he slid to the other side of the bar. Erik stabbed Bruce in the chest which was enough to wound him and back hand slapped Diane so hard blood splattered. 

“Hey! Back off my sister, fanger!” Lloyd shouted with rage.

“I think it’s time for y’all to leave!” Marco yelled.

The vampire trio looked at the sticks in their hands and laughed.

“You can’t be serious? You pathetic humans! What the fuck is a pool stick gonna do—”

“Wanna find out?” Luke said.

All at once, everyone got up and scurried to the front. Lloyd pulled out his gun and pointed it at Woo’s head.

“I’ll put a bullet in your fucking head!” Lloyd shouted.

“Just leave, we don’t want no trouble, Tammy,” Marco motioned for her to come to him, “C’mere.” 

She took one step and Erik gripped her wrist. Tamara tried to pull her arm back. Lloyd turned his gun on Erik.

“Let go of me!” Tamara screamed.

Erik looked at her with a mixture of confusion and anger.

“Tammy!” He yelled.

“GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF HER!” 

Lloyd pulled the trigger and Erik was swift on his feet in a blink of an eye, snatching up Lloyd’s gun. His fangs popped out and he was chest to chest with Lloyd, eyes wild and menacing.

“Stop it, Erik!” Tamara shouted with tears in her eyes.

“You stay the fuck away from her or it’s war,” Lloyd growled.

Erik smirked dangerously at him. 

“She’s mine.” 

“This is fun,” Diane said with a vicious smirk.

“She don’t belong to you,” Luke grabbed Tamara’s hand.

“Get the fuck out! All of ya’!!!!”

Erik held his hand out for Tamara to take and she refused to go with him. 

“I don’t want anything to do with you,” Tamara spoke with a tremble in her voice.

“This is getting boring. You coming or not, Stevens?” Woo said while inspecting his nails. Bruce wasn’t too happy about Erik still tagging along after being stabbed. 

“I was hoping for more blood to shed! I could use some fresh blood,” Diane spoke excitedly. 

“Just go,” Tamara wiped her tears away. “Fucking go!”

Erik backed away towards the door and Diane, Bruce, and Woo were right behind him. They dashed at lightning speed out of the bar and Tamara broke down. 

“Tammy,” Lloyd wrapped his arms around his sister, “It’s okay…you’re safe.”

“That was some scary shit,” Luke had a hand to his chest.

“He showed his true colors. How could he put her in danger like that?” Marco said.

“Because he’s a vampire. They don’t have feelings. All they know is to kill. It was only a matter of time before he tried to attack Tammy.”

Tamara shoved away from Lloyd and ran to the back of the bar. She grabbed her things in a rush, so ready to get out of there and away from everyone. She couldn’t understand why Erik would disrespect her like that? Embarrass her in front of everyone? 

“Hey, Tammy,” Tara and Lafayette wrapped their arms around her, “Shhh, it’s okay, girl. I’m so sorry.”

“I just need to get out of here.”

“I’ll take her home.”

Lloyd and Luke walked up with Marco trailing behind.

“I can drive.” Tamara argued.

“Not that piece of shit. I’m takin ya’ back to Nana’s. Let’s go.”

Luke grabbed her things and walked out behind Lloyd. Marco rubbed her back before watching her walk out of the bar. Luke helped her in the back seat and she laid down with tears streaming down her face. Just when everything was going so well. Maybe it was for the best. 

@goddessofthundathighs​ @theegoldenchild​ @hearteyes-for-killmonger​ @imagining-greatness @chaneajoyyy​ @uzumaki-rebellion​ @theeblackmedusa​ @daddiespamm​ @lisayourworries​ @bellleame​ @ratedbadgal​ @bombshellbre95​ @cecereads209​ @cancerianprincess​ @dameshaemonique​ @6lack-1otus​ @thickemadame​ @thickeeparker​ @stinkalinkkkk​ @1lavender-menace @ehniki​ @electrixit​ @prettyisasprettydoes1306​ @washillary​ @bakarisprincess​ @melodicheauxxlovesfood​ @bxolux​ @sweet2krazee​ @bluesole16​​ @90sisthenew80s​​ @ispywithmylileye​​ @geemamii​ @unbotheredblackchild​​ @nubianbabee​​ @adoreesun​​  @blackpinup22​​ @nayaxwrites​​ @dersha89​​ @honeytoffee​ @thickianaaaa​ @modelmemoirs​​ @why-wait-4-eventually @angelicniah​​ @queenfaithmarie​​ @soulfulbeauty19​​ @asweet-serendipity​​ @kartierkitten​​ @iamching07​​ @ladymac82​​ @bbygirlwiththatass​​ @cydneyloo​​ @sexysativa605​​ @chrisevans-world​​ @aijha​​ @novaniskye​​ @princessxotwod​​ @callmemckenzieee​​ @blowmymbackout​​ @lahuttor​​ @momobaby227​​ @blackerthings​​ @neesiewrote​​ @kenbieee​​  @palmstreesallday​​ @kokokonako​​ @richgirlaesthetics​​ @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat​​ @beautybyfire​​ @abluesforlyssa​​ @xo-goldengirl​​ @mbakuetshurisprincess​​ @4ftwonder​​ @raysunshine78​​ @sensitivelegend​​ @sourbabynaee​​ @gotbeefbitch-blog​​ @joonswan​ @cool-fancyone​​ @efonteno​​ @akimi-youngblood​​ @badassdoll​​ @shyblackgurl​​ @childishgambinaax​​ @teheeboo​​ @skylahb​​ @gigafaex​​ @readingaddict1290​​ @circeaphoenix​​ @xsweetdellzx​​ @carewornblackgirl​​ @queengodiva619​​ @certifiedlesbianbaddie​​ @seyven89​​ ​ @jamaicanqueenaa​​ @soufcakmistress​​ @eyeknowmywrites​​ 

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

Art References for Chapter 5 of undernearth the sunrise (show me where your love lies)

Yes, hi- surprise epilogue time!

Moonlit Night on the Dnieper, Arkhip Kuindzhi, 1880

“Let me get your old bones up on the roof, grandpa,” Monty says, flashing Edwin a smirk.

“You are three years younger than us, do not act like we are cradle snatchers,” Edwin says with a roll of the eyes even as he fixes his gaze on the door to the roof, a determined glint in his eyes that sparkles against the dark attic like Kuindzhi’s moon over the Dnieper river. He unbuttons his suit jacket and rolls back the cuffs on his button-up to whistles from both Monty and Charles. “God, why do I put up with you two?”

“Because you love us,” Charles says at the same time that Monty says, “Because we’re fantastic influences and you know it.”

The Gates of Time Square, Chryssa, 1972

"The thing about going to England is that Monty kind of expected it to give him a new perspective on Edwin and Charles. To tell him more about the places that they grew up, the places that shaped them, the places that raised them.

And it has, in a lot of ways. It showed him the kind of people that they could have turned out to be but didn't. Because they were better than the world that they grew up in. Because they were more open-minded, because they were determined to become better people, because they have always been the brightest thing in every room they’re in, as neon bright as Chryssa’s tributes to the city that never sleeps."

Symphony of the sixth blast furnace, Evgeny Sedukhin, 1979

"Nowadays, Charles isn’t as nervous about taking up space. About knowing his own worth. He could have gone up to Simon and told him exactly what he thought and not been afraid of the consequences. 

But Monty deserves a place to be brilliant, too. A place to take up space without fear. A place to be as explosively bright as that Sedukhin painting he showed them last month in his Modernism textbook, rambling on about light and values and the tenets of Soviet Realism."

Young Woman in a Niche with a Parrot and Cage, Gerrit Dou, 1660-65

"Monty thinks about Esther and Tommy and that studio apartment that should have meant freedom but instead kept him trapped within his mother's arms with only the illusion of freedom. He was a bird able to leave its cage, but never able to fly away from its master, like one of the several copies Gerrit Dou made of his ladies and parrots and cages."

Nocturne, James McNeill Whistler, 1870-77

"As they descend out of the clouds and onto a waking Atlanta, Georgia, where they'll transfer to their flight to London, Monty can’t help but think about Whistler’s Nocturne series, the grays and blue and golds, the early morning light bleeding into dark in the same way that Whistler’s nighttime scapes did."

The Boulevard Montmartre at Night, Camille Pissarro, 1897

"Monty has taken to driving to the sports foundation’s tiny office at the local high school in order to pick up Charles after his own shifts at the museum, where Monty finally went full-time at the end of the summer, leading to him finally being able to quit his gas station job. He’s been so much more at ease since then, finally in his element, bright as the lanterns flickering in one of the Pissarro paintings that Monty loves so much."

@deadboy-edwin @icecreambrownies @anonymousbooknerd-universe @ashildrs

@tragedy-machine @orpheusetude @jaysbraindump

@pappelsiin @itsbitmxdinhere @rexrevri @sweet-like-h0ney-lavender @saffirez

@the-ipre @sunnylemonss @days-light @agentearthling @helltechnicality

@sethlost @catboy-cabin @secretlyafiveheadeddragon @vyther15

@anything-thats-rock-and-roll @queen-of-hobgobblers @every-moment-a-different-sound

@nix-nihili @mellxncollie @tumblerislovetumblerislife @lemurafraidofthunder

@likemmmcookies @wr0temyway0ut @thelakeswillbreakourfall

[typicalopposite]

𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝙸 𝚃𝚛𝚢 𝚃𝚘 𝙵𝚕𝚢 (𝙸 𝙵𝚊𝚕𝚕)

BuckTommy Fic | M | Chapter 6/7 | 7419 words

Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | ao3

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚂𝚒𝚡: 𝚒𝚏 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚔 (𝙸'𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚍𝚎𝚏𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔)

There is a For Sale sign at 3416 Hillhaven Drive, and in all of Buck’s thirty three years there has never been another time that he recalls feeling so hopeless. 

.

.

.

(A month earlier)

Buck has hope when he leaves the hospital, climbs into his Jeep, and goes straight for the interstate, ignoring the fact he has a shift he’s already late for… a shift he’ll miss if he makes this trip. He should call Bobby, instead he just takes the exit for I-5 and doesn’t look back. 

He has hope as the hours pass by (nearly nine of them); every second bringing him closer to Whispering Pines Rehabilitation Center of Northern California. He has hope when he pulls into the facility parking lot, turns the Jeep off, and walks inside. He has hope and he clings to it for dear life. 

He just has to tell Tommy the truth; how he feels, what they are, where he wants to be. He wants Tommy, he loves Tommy. He just has to tell him. 

He will tell him and all will be fixed. 

Sure, he’s taken this spot at Whispering Pines… but he can transfer; and even if he can’t… even if he doesn’t want to… Buck will gladly drive to NorCal every day off to spend with him through his recovery. He doesn’t mind, he’ll do anything. 

He feels flushed and sweaty as he approaches the nurses desk. “Thomas Kinard,” he says, voice embarrassingly shaky. 

“Room 25,” the woman says, and she’s nowhere near as bubbly or as friendly as even the toughest nurse back at Presbyterian’s rehab. Already a reason this place isn’t good for Tommy. Kind, caring, sweet Tommy… Who is going through a very stressful time, and needs compassion.

Buck has hope. He will fix this, and bring Tommy back home where he belongs. 

He is about to turn down the hall Tommy’s room is on when he hears voices. Dreadfully familiar voices, and he feels his stomach twist into a knot. He dips into a bathroom, just as they round the corner, and goes into the large stall at the end. He hopes his feet aren’t visible, and that they don’t try to open the stall door when he hears them enter the bathroom. “You know…” Sal says, after the door closes behind him. “You could at least try to not be so smugly satisfied about this.” 

“Oh, fuck off, Sal…” Morris groans. “I’m not happy about this… but this place is good for him.” 

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

Morris sighs. “Look… I know he’s not a bad person, okay? I know he’s sorry, and I know he’s trying to fix it all… and that’s his thing… and all that. I have heard it plenty of times from everyone else who has gotten past everything. Hell, I've heard it from Tommy.” 

“And yet you still can’t let it go? Colin, it’s Tommy’s life, man… if he can—”

“You weren’t there, okay?!” Morris suddenly shouts, so loud it causes Buck to jump. He hears Morris clear his throat. Buck holds his breath, trying to will his heart to slow down. “He— he showed up one night after everything happened at the bar… and I’ve never seen him like that. He was drunk off his ass, and about out of his mind; talking about how he can't live without Evan... how he doesn’t want to live without Evan…” 

Buck hears a sniffle, he wonders if Morris is crying… he feels like crying. He clings to hope like a final lifeline. He can still fix this… 

“I sat up all night, Sal… watching him,” Morris continues. “Scared of what I might find the next morning if I didn’t…” 

“Damn, man… I— I didn’t know all that. I’m sorry,” Sal says. Buck wishes he could apologize too; he suddenly gets what Lucy meant by Tommy not caring about making it back in one piece. It makes his stomach sour. He has to fix this. “C‘Mon, long way back to LA, I’ll buy you dinner.” 

“Well if you’re offering, I’m not gonna try to talk you out of it,” Morris laughs and Buck listens closely as they leave the bathroom. He quickly gets up and goes to the door, cracking it enough to see which way they went. Thankfully not back in the direction of Tommy’s room. 

Once they are far enough away that he’s certain they won’t see him, he continues down the hallway towards room 25. He passes 23– he just has to tell Tommy that he loves him. 24– and that he wants to be with him, and only him, forever; Tommy is his forever. He stops outside Tommy’s closed door, his hand mid-lift to knock. 

He freezes. What if it’s not enough, he thinks. His heart starts racing, his mind goes blank… maybe this was a bad idea. Before he can snap out of it (rethink it over, or just turn and run for that matter), the door swings inward, a nurse exits, and Buck sees Tommy. 

He just saw him a day earlier, and yet it feels like it’s been so long. 

He’s sitting in a big recliner by the window—and okay… maybe that’s a nice feature to have in the patients’ rooms. However, he looks so small sitting in it. He’s still so skinny, but this is beyond that. He looks exhausted. He has a five ‘o clock shadow, that’s leaning more towards grown out stubble now. There are deep, dark circles under his eyes. Buck has to remind himself it’s only been a day; he has to ask himself if Tommy looked so peaked and worn out before and he just hadn’t noticed. 

He still has hope. He just needs to walk in— Tommy looks at the door; at Buck.

His eyes go wide, like he’s seen a ghost; Buck doubts he looks any less panicked. “Uh, h-hey…” Buck says, stepping into the room, grabbing the door and gently closing it behind him. 

“Hey…” Tommy replies (or maybe repeats… his voice is cautious and he is staring at Buck so skeptically, maybe it wasn’t a hey back…. But instead a ‘you seriously show up after I fled you to come upstate, and just said hey?!’). 

“Can— can we talk?” 

Tommy shifts in the chair; eventually he nods. That’s a good sign. Buck holds on to hope.

He holds on… and then he opens his mouth… and lets it all go. “Tommy, I am so—” he begins, and Tommy instantly tenses up. 

“I swear to god, Evan… if you start apologizing,” he says through a clenched jaw. 

“Just— just listen… I need to—”

“You don’t need to apologize…” 

“I do! Because—”

“No you don’t!” Tommy screams, and Bucks not sure he’s ever heard him actually scream before. “Oh my god… why should you apologize. You haven’t done anything?!” Buck opens his mouth— not so much to disagree (which he does) but to try to calm Tommy down—Tommy doesn’t give him a chance. “If I felt like any of this was on you… if I felt like I didn’t deserve for you to leave… or— or for you to stop wanting to be with me… stop loving— I would have said so! I wouldn’t have let you stay around so long.” Buck can feel his brows knitting together; feels the confusion painting itself across his face. Tommy won’t look at him— does he really believe what he’s saying? 

“Tommy… just listen—”

“No!” Tommy’s eyes are wide and frantic, he’s breathing too fast, Buck is so worried he is going to make himself pass out. He steps forward, tries to touch him, Tommy shifts away. “No… y- you listen. If— if you want to make unnecessary amends so bad, then you need to go make them with people who were actually upset with you. Colin… or Lucy... or hell, with yourself.” Tears fall down both cheeks, he wraps his arms around himself. Buck thinks of when he asked about Jay, how Tommy held himself then; he looked so small. He looks even smaller now.  “I—I don’t need it. I don’t deserve it— I did all of this… to myself!”

“Tommy… Please, listen to me! I just need to tell you—”

“Just go, Evan,” Tommy cries. He clutches at his chest, and sucks in a sharp breath. He shouldn’t be crying this hard, he shouldn’t be crying at all. He doesn’t need to be worked up or stressed. His lungs are still so weak. Buck doesn’t know what to do; he won’t listen. “I— I can’t, Evan please. I can’t— just go. Please!” 

“Okay. O- okay…” Buck says. He takes a step back, towards the door. “Okay, I’ll go. I’ll leave you alone…” Tommy wilts at that—it confuses Buck more… but— but this is what he wants, right? It’s what he’s saying, right? He’s telling him to leave…  “I— I’m sor— I’ll see you— um… bye. Bye Tommy.” He is fumbling over his words, and stumbling over his feet trying to get to the door. 

He could still tell him. He could just spit it out. Get it into the universe and what happens with it, happens. But Tommy’s still taking deep gasping breaths, and he’s digging his palms into his eyes. He’s softly weeping— actually weeping— and Buck just doesn’t want to hurt him anymore. 

So he leaves. 

He pulls the door to, and pretends he can’t still hear Tommy crying through it. (It’s a sound he’s sure is going to haunt him regardless, no matter how hard he tries to ignore it.) He takes the walk of shame down the hall. He passes the door to a courtyard; there’s some patients playing basketball… Tommy loves basketball. Another positive… maybe this place is good for him after all. He feels the burn of tears and continues towards the exit trying to blink them away… it only pushes them out.

“Evan…” he hears, and dammit he might never hear that sweet voice again; that makes the tears come on stronger. He looks up, and Mrs. K is coming towards him with a nurse. “You go on dear,” she tells her. “I’ll be right there!” The nurse looks from her to Buck, and back, then nods and continues down the hall. “Oh… sweet pea,” Mrs. K says, her face softening. She walks up to him, and cups his face with both hands, swiping her thumbs under each eye, catching the tears; they keep coming. “How about I walk you to your car?” 

Buck looks at her. So many times he thinks this woman can’t be real. She’s too kind. Too caring. Too understanding… That’s where Tommy gets it from… and look what Buck did, he took those qualities and broke him with them. He doesn’t deserve her kindness… just like he didn’t deserve Tommy’s. Tommy needs her now, not him. “It’s fine,” he says. “Tommy—” 

“Will be fine for a moment, his nurse is going to check on him. I won’t take long.” She gives him a stern look like he’d better not argue. He doesn’t. He is glad he at least gets to say goodbye to her. “Come on.” She offers a smile, and hooks her arm around his, leading him past the nurses station and out the door into the parking lot. “Oh! Tommy had told me you have a Jeep!” She exclaims when they stop at it. “How many little ducks do you have?” 

“Uh, I have a few…” he says, a weak laugh loosening the knot in his chest just a little; he appreciates her even more because of it. He watches as Mrs. K walks up to the front and checks the dash. 

“I love it!” She exclaims, smiling at his little collection and he thinks he’s going to miss her… a lot. He’s reminded that he’s going to miss Tommy a lot… He pop has to do something or he’s going to start crying again. 

“You, uh, like Jeeps?” He asks.

Mrs. K’s expression shifts, a fond look crossing her face. “I always wanted one,” she says. “My brother had one, and when he’d visit, he would take the doors off… then take me and Tommy out on some back dirt road and just let her rip. Tommy loved it… I loved it.”

“Why didn’t you ever get one?” 

“Oh… I don’t know.” She looks the vehicle over, and sighs. “I guess it was partly because so many people were in my ear telling me why I shouldn’t. I was a mom… I needed to grow up… It wasn’t very lady-like. Eventually their negative opinions became so loud it drowned out my own, until I believed it too.” She shrugs; smiles at Buck. “Tommy really loved riding in that Jeep. He would have loved it if I’d got one. I should have…” 

Buck thinks of the things he should have done. He should have listened to Hen and Chimney when they told him not to listen to Gerard. He should have waited for Tommy to be comfortable telling him about Jay. He should have heard him out about the whole Sal kiss. He should have gone to talk to him when they were telling him Tommy was spiraling. He should have told him how much he loves him—how much he needs him… how much he can’t live without him—the second he opened his eyes in that hospital bed. 

Should have… could have… but he didn’t, and now he’s here. 

Mrs. K looks at him; those similar steel blue eyes, giving that similar sympathetic look. She takes his hands, and he squeezes hers in return. “This is gonna work itself out, Evan, I know it will. Hope is a race that must be run.” She gives him a smile. “At least that’s what my daily motivational app said this morning.” That pulls a laugh from Buck he wasn’t expecting, the knot loosens a little more. He wraps his arms around Mrs. K and pulls her into a hug. “I just know I'll see you soon, sweet pea.”

Buck is sure that’s not the case, but he will start crying again if he thinks too much about that. “I’ll uh— I’ll have to give you a ride when I do,” he says instead. “Doors off.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that,” Mrs. K laughs. She squeezes him one more time, then lets him go. “Don't you give up hope just yet, okay?” 

“I— I won’t…” he says. (I’ll try, he means.)

And he does… honestly, he does. 

He tries to hold on to hope as he has to explain to the 118 that Tommy went to NorCal, and that they are over, and that it’s once again all his fault. He tries to hold on to hope as his day to day slowly starts to resemble his life before—not before the accident, or before the break up… before Tommy. He tries to hold on to hope as he navigates the looks of pity and the sympathies and the offers to go out— for drinks, or food, or just to hang— anything they can do to help ease his mind. 

He tries to hold on to hope as he reads, and re-reads Tommy’s card religiously like it’s a daily prayer. (He could probably recite it forwards, backward, and out of order, but he needs to see Tommy’s handwriting, his artwork on the front, his signature with the little heart. He tries as the days pass, and the little updates Mrs. K sends to keep Buck in the loop on how Tommy’s doing space out more and more… then stop all together… She’s older and she’s doing this behind Tommy’s back, Buck expected it eventually.

Still, he tries desperately to hold on to hope…

“Buckley! How about a hand over here?” McCarthy shouts across the wreckage of a multi car pile up. It’s the first time the 118 has been on scene with Harbor in a while. This is a bad one though; they needed air support. 

Buck blinks at his name, snapping out of his thoughts and back into the chaos around him. He looks at McCarthy, still waiting for an answer, or the help he requested. “Oh— uh, yeah… C- Coming!” 

He helps pull the guy out of the opening McCarty and Dominguez just made from cutting the door off the smashed car. Hicks is there, too, ready to start administering fluids and vital checks. It feels so reminiscent, Buck feels his face begin to flush. “You good, kid?” McCarty asks, and Buck hasn’t even noticed the backboard has been carried off towards the helicopter; Collier lifts off from the scene with Lucy and another medic leaving the rest at the scene to continue with assistance. “Buckley?” 

Buck blinks. He looks at McCarty… at Dominguez and Hicks, who are all waiting for an answer. “I’m— I’m fine… sorry,” he says, shaking his head and plastering on a fake smile. “Been a long shift…” 

McCarty smiles at him, sympathetically… he’s starting to get Tommy’s distaste of apologies… “Well, alright… come on, we still got a mess to clean up out here,” the older man says, mostly to the members of his own team but Buck snaps into action as well. 

“For the record…” Hicks says, helping Buck move some of the wreckage out of the road. “I'm really sorry things didn’t work out. I, uh— I know I wasn’t very welcoming when everything went down… but I was rooting for you two there at the end.” 

“Yeah…” Dominguez adds. “Hopefully y'all can work things out once he’s home…”

Buck’s throat feels tight. He nods.

It is nice, on one hand, to seemingly not be on everyone’s shit list anymore. Everyone that is—“You two come on!” Morris barks, not even sparing a look in Buck’s direction. He gets it now, though… he deserves the hate. Buck sighs as the two wave goodbye before jogging over to continue with clean up. 

He tries to hold on to hope.

“What's that?” Christopher asks, and Buck’s attention is broken from his upteenth reread through the day of Tommy’s card. 

It’s Buck’s day off and Eddie insists he needs the company… Company in the form of a moody sharp witted teenager. “It’s just— uh, just a card,” he lies so maybe it will stay at that and he won’t have to explain it further. 

“From Tommy?” Buck’s head snaps up, looking across the table to where Christopher is doing his homework. “There’s a picture of you two on it…” he explains. Buck flips the card over looking at the picture and sighs. “Are you and Tommy still together?” Christopher asks. 

Buck tries to swallow the groan he feels coming up, wishes the dinner timer would hurry up and go off so he could use it as a diversion. “Uh, that’s— that’s kind of complicated…” he says. 

“Complicated how? Either you’re together… or you’re not,” Christopher replies, his attention drifting back to his school work. 

“Well, we’re— we’re not… together… anymore.”

“Why?” 

Buck thinks this is plenty of reason to never have kids. He sighs. “I told you… it’s complicated.” 

Christopher looks up, and Buck could maybe laugh at the face the kid gives him if the conversation wasn’t currently driving a knife into his chest. “Buck…”

“Okay, okay…” Buck relents. “I… messed up, big time. I hurt him… in a lot of ways.”

“Did you apologize?” 

And that’s what gets a laugh out of Buck. “Uh, I don’t— I don’t think an apology is gonna work this time, buddy.” Christopher looks up at him, confused. “He uh… said he doesn’t want me to apologize. He said he doesn’t blame me.” 

Christopher’s brows furrow. “Then… Why aren’t you still together? Do you not love him anymore?” 

“What?!” Buck gasps. “Of course I still love him… I’ll always love him,” Buck says, and realizes that it’s possibly the first time he’s said it out loud since the break up… Christopher somehow manages to look more confused. “It’s just—”

“Have you told him?” 

“Told him?”

“That you still love him.” Buck feels his throat tighten. I tried… he wants to say. But the reality is he should have done it to begin with. He waited too long… waited until Tommy truly thought he didn’t. “You should tell him.” 

“Chris… I don’t think—” Christopher sighs, gives Buck that look again. “You really think so?”

A big smile spreads across  Christopher’s face. “Heck yeah! You could make him something like your card, since apparently old people still do that.” 

Buck laughs, and grabs a napkin to ball up and throw at Christopher. He considers it. He tries to hold on to hope.

He tries to hold on as the day comes to an end and Christopher goes home. He tries to hold on as he lays in bed and contemplates what Christopher said, and Dominguez said, and even Mrs. K… they all have faith this will work out. Maybe he should too. 

“Did you hear Tommy’s coming down with his mom this weekend to get some things from his house?” Lucy asks casually over drinks. Buck nearly chokes on his own. 

“Really— he— no, I hadn’t— is he… really?” Buck sputters. The table laughs; a good chunk of both stations sitting around the booth. “That’s— uh, that’s great! I’m sure he’ll be glad to see… everyone.” He feels his face heating up, and starts picking at his bottles label.

“Yeah,” she continues. “I’m sure he will be too… glad to see everyone, that is.” 

The way she emphasizes everyone makes Buck feel a little bit lighter; a little more hopeful. “You— you think so?” 

“Think? No…” Buck wilts. “I know so… he still can’t shut up about you.” Buck soars. 

“R- Really?!” He asks, surprised. 

She nods. “Oh yeah… the best part is when he uses you to correct the nurses doing his PT. It’s always: well Evan would do it this way, and it didn’t hurt, or; well Evan would give me breaks in between exercises so I didn’t tire myself out. Evan was gentler, Evan was calmer, Evan was better. I miss Evan.”

“He— He said he misses me…” 

Lucy pauses, the 217 looks at her like maybe she shared a little too much. Buck feels his heart slow to a near stop. She sips her beer and sighs. “More than just during PT…” she finally says, and Buck catches the approving smiles of both McCarty and Collier.

He has hope.

He has hope when he leaves work Friday evening and goes straight to the craft store. He’s not the best with finding the right words… but he is a little creative, so he skips the card and gets some red leather cord, and some gray beads instead. 

He has hope when he goes back to the loft and dumps everything onto his table. He will do anything, and right now that’s finding his own way to tell Tommy what they are; what Tommy is to Buck; what he wants. 

He has hope as he strings each bead, the round balls, the long skinny bars, onto the cord. He tries it on for size, gives it a little more slack for Tommy’s wrist, and then ties the ends off in an adjustable knot. 

He has hope as he puts the bracelet in a little gift box, writes To Tommy on it; looks it over one more time… checks that the placement of the beads are correct, closes the lid and grabs his keys. He drives straight to Tommy’s, feeling like this might just actually work. 

He has hope as he turns onto Tommy’s street. He has hope when he sees no one in the driveway, he’ll just wait… he can wait. He has hope until he sees the sign in the front yard.

There's a For Sale sign at 3416 Hillhaven Drive— Tommy’s House— and suddenly Buck feels completely hopeless. 

The cool metal of the Home key Buck’s been wearing around his neck suddenly feels like it’s scalding hot against his skin. He reaches under his collar and pulls the chain over his head. 

He has passed by Tommy’s house after every shift—regardless of it being in the complete opposite direction of his loft; regardless of the memories it brings flooding back, and the added pain it puts into his chest—and the one time he doesn’t… the one time he lets himself be too occupied floating around on his delusional cloud nine… this happens.

He parks the Jeep, climbs out and just stares at the sign… He isn’t sure why that leads to him walking up the pathway to the porch, then to the front door. He isn’t sure why he takes the key, and tries it… maybe a part of him thinks it won’t work, but it does. 

The door creaks open (Tommy always complained about that…. said he needed to take some WD-40 to it). He steps inside. It feels the vice tightening itself around his chest as he looks around at the empty house; not of things, but empty of life, and happiness, and two am wine drunk slow dancing around the living room to one of their favorite love songs… Empty of Tommy. His life has been so empty of Tommy, and now it seems it always will be.

Was this why Tommy was coming down? Did Lucy and the rest of the 217 know? Maybe they were hoping he could talk him out of this. His thoughts are interrupted by a car pulling into the driveway. Buck contemplates turning and running from the house, but a part of him wants to stay and finally fight for Tommy… the way he should have been all along. 

He hears a door open and then close—just one, he wonders if it’s Mrs. K… No such luck he thinks when he sees Morris walking up onto the porch. He looks through the open door at Buck, and sighs. 

It just had to be Morris… he’s going to enjoy this, Buck is sure. 

“Hey Buckley…” Morris says, walking up the steps towards the door. There's nowhere for Buck to go now—not much he can do in response but offer a tight lipped smile, since his voice has abandoned him. “Uh… listen,” Morris continues. He turns and looks out to the road. “For what it’s worth… I didn’t know he was going to sell his place. No one did. He just called and sprung it on us yesterday.” 

Buck swallows around the lump and thinks that if Tommy didn’t want the people he is closest to to know until he was already in the process of selling… he must be serious about this… he must want this. 

“So— so he’s… Tommy is still coming?” 

“Yeah,” Morris says. “He’s actually almost here,” Buck suddenly feels the urge to run from the house again… “He just asked me if I could get the stuff ready… said he doesn’t want to be here too long.” 

“Ah,” Buck manages around his building emotions. “Well… I, uh, better— I better let you get to that… then.” 

“Are you not gonna wait ‘til he gets here?” Morris asks. Buck shakes his head and quickly goes around Morris and gets halfway down the steps. “Buckley, wait…” Morris calls, he looks back. “Can you— uh… I hate to ask you this but can you show me where he keeps his suitcase?” 

Buck feels the vice on his chest tighten… was this some new torture method? Except, if Buck didn’t know any better—and hell maybe he doesn’t—Morris actually looks sad… he actually looks sympathetic. “S- Sure… yeah, sure, it’s right in his closet. I’ll show you.” Then he’s walking back into the house and getting the suitcase down himself. He gets Morris to show him the list he made for Tommy and Buck easily finds it all, packing it into the suitcase against Morris’ constant requests to let him do it instead. “Um, here…” he says, rolling the suitcase out to Morris. “And also give him this…” Buck holds out the thick fur lined jacket he bought Tommy just before all this… when they were talking about a trip up north, and Buck learned Tommy didn’t own a single warm jacket. “I know he didn’t ask for it… And— and he might not want it because— b- but it’s getting cold up there, and I just— he needs to take something to keep him warm, at least until he gets a new one.” 

Morris takes the jacket, and the suitcase, and smiles. “I’ll let him know you—”

“No,” Buck quickly interjects. “No, please… just… just say you found it.” Morris stares for a moment then nods. “And uh, also, I— I know things have been pretty tense between you and I, but—”

“Hey that’s all on me, kid… and I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s not…” Buck says, his throat tightening. “You were right, about everything. I left… and then just tried to come back like I didn’t cause a huge mess for everyone else to clean up…” He rapidly blinks back the tears threatening to burst free. “And— and you did. All of you… Everyone was there for him when I wasn’t. When I should have been. So, thanks… for being a good friend. He’s lucky to have someone like you who will be there… no matter what.” 

Morris looks speechless. He moves the suitcase handle from one hand to the other. “Thanks Buckley,” he says. 

Buck feels like he’s about to crawl out of his skin, so he doesn’t wait around any longer, and takes that as enough of a goodbye to once more walk out of the house, this time pulling the door behind him.  He speed walks towards the Jeep, sparing one last look at the sign. Then he climbs behind the wheel, puts her in drive and pulls up by the trash bin… he takes the little gift box, tosses it inside, and flips around, getting away from the house, that sign, Morris, and all the wasted hope as fast as he can. 

He drives straight back to the station. 

He goes in and practically begs Bobby to put him back on the schedule for the rest of the team's 24 (he was only on a 12). Bobby stares at him confused. “Buck, what’s going on?” 

“I— I just— I need… Please. Please…” he begs, trying his damndest to keep his emotions held in. He can’t go back to his loft, not right now. He can’t be alone. He can’t handle the emptiness, it’s too big. He’ll just go sleep on the couch if Bobby won’t let him work. He’ll make them a meal; he’ll deep clean the entire station; he’ll play the little Firehouse Wife like Gerard had called him the first time he saw Buck in an apron… As long as he’s here, and not in his damned loft, where the terrible reminders of all the pain he’s caused resides, and won’t leave. 

“Okay,” Bobby says, his eyes still full of worry. “Go get changed, I’ll put you back on.” 

“Thank— thanks Bobby… Thank you.” 

Buck blinks rapidly against the tears blurring his vision as he stumbles his way out of Bobby’s office towards the lockers. “Buck?” Eddie calls from stocking EMT supplies. “Is everything okay?”

“Uh, yeah— yeah. Fine. Good. I just… I needed to—I wanted to… I decided to work the rest of the shift…” He misses the door, pushing on the glass pane beside it instead. “I mean… might as well right?” His voice breaks, the tears bulge in his eyes. Eddie’s face pulls further down into a frown, he sets the supplies in his hands down. “Nothing at home… no reason to leave… Not anymore…” 

“But I thought you were—”

Buck sucks in a breath, and shakes his head hard, before pushing the door open to the lockers and going inside. Eddie continues watching him, making him wish the walls weren’t all glass. He opens his locker… he really should have cleaned it out already. Pictures of him and Tommy are plastered all over the sides… Tommy’s dog tags are hanging by his uniform… One of Tommy’s shirts is wadded up— he’d kept it in there like a personal scent booster, making his things all smell like Tommy. He can’t breathe now… the scent is too strong. 

The door pushes open when he grabs the trash can and like the bracelet, their happiness and future starts throwing everything in the locker away. “Buck,” he hears Hen say, her voice soft and calming... it doesn’t help. “Hey, stop… you don’t really wanna get rid of all this.” And she’s right. She’s always been right. 

“Why didn’t I listen to you Hen…” he says, peeling another picture off of the inside of the locker door. He looks at it; at them. Holding each other, kissing, and just… happy. His lip starts to tremble, he doesn’t bother trying to stop it as he brings the picture up to his chest. “I threw it all away…” 

He feels arms wrap around him. He’s aware he’s started crying so he gets why… not that he deserves it. Another pair wrap around him from the back; Chimney. Then there’s Eddie, and Ravi… Bobby. He tries to hold them all back, and lets himself be comforted, finally. He cries until he feels dried up, until it feels like he’s about to pass out. 

“Bobby,” Hen says, keeping him held firmly against her chest. “He can’t work like this.” 

“I know…” Bobby says. “I have someone coming…”

Maddie arrives with Jee in tow, handing her off to Chimney while she comes over and accesses Buck. Unfortunately nursing school doesn’t teach much on how to mend a broken heart. She cups his cheek and offers a smile instead, which he tries to return but it comes out shaky and unconvincing. “Come on,” she says. He sighs, but lets her pull him to his feet. “Let’s get you home.” Except… the loft will never feel like home again. He doesn’t say that, just tries to force another smile as Jee runs over to him, arms raised wanting to be held. A hug from her at least does something in the way of making him feel a little better.

The loft is quiet. The remnants of his little (pointless) crafting project cover the table. Maddie doesn’t question the mess, just guides Buck to the stairs and nudges him up them. “Take a shower,” she tells him. “Get in something comfortable and get in bed. I’ll make you something to eat.” He could argue she doesn’t need to do that. It’s Maddie, she would just do it harder. 

The water feels nice… so he turns it cold. The warmth feels wrong when he is facing a lifetime alone because he self sabotages and over thinks and runs everyone off. He stands under the stream until the icy water becomes unbearable, then he dries himself off and goes into his closet for something to wear. A plain shirt and some basketball shorts suffice, and he turns to go to his bed and notices Tommy’s flight jumper… hanging on the back of the bathroom door. 

It’s not just one of his uniforms kept at Buck’s for just incase moments… It’s the flight Jumper uniform he had on in the crash. Buck doesn’t even know why he kept it. It’s blood stained and cut to pieces—they had to cut him out of it. Maybe he wanted something to remind him of what he caused. Well he doesn’t need a ruined uniform to do that now… but it does add to his despair. He takes the uniform down and carries it out into the room; sits with it on the bed. 

“Ok that will be done in about…” Maddie stops at the foot of the stairs and looks up at him. “Buck?” He doesn’t respond, so she comes up the steps. “Is— is that—” There’s a knock at the door. “That’s probably Athena…” she says. 

“Athena?” 

“Yeah, she said she’s bringing something from the station.”

He listens as Maddie opens the door, greets Athena. He lays the uniform out on Tommy’s side of the bed and joins them downstairs. “Hey Buck,” Athena says way softer than her normal straightforward tone. “Bobby figured you’d be missing this before too long,” she continues, holding Tommy’s card out to him. He stares at it, and feels his face tugging down into a frown. He doesn’t take it, so Maddie does. She starts to open it, checks with him to see if it’s okay, he nods. Athena steps around to see the words as well, both have soft smiles when they are through. “That’s love,” Athena says. 

“Was… love,” Buck corrects. 

“Was?” Athena repeats. 

“I doubt he feels that way anymore…”

“What makes you so sure?” Athena presses, arching a brow. “Because I remember the way he stared at you like you hung the moon… and that was just at his little hospital party…”

Buck shrugs, wrapping his arms around himself. “A lot has happened since then…” both Athena and Maddie look at him confused. “He— uh… he’s selling his house.” Buck lifts his eyes to see their understanding looks; he gets heavier confusion. “He’s leaving LA. He… he doesn’t want to be here anymore.” 

“And you think it’s because he’s stopped loving you?” Athena practically deadpans. Maddie’s lips twitch, she bites them. 

“It would make sense,” Buck attempts to argue. “It’s not like I’ve given him much reason to keep loving me— I haven’t even told him how I feel since everything happened…”

That gets a new reaction from both women. “You haven’t— Buck?!” Maddie gasps. “What are you waiting for?!” 

“I— I don’t— I don't think it matters much now…”

Maddie laughs. She sets the card down so she can take Buck’s face in her hands. “Isn’t this exactly what you said love should be? When you’re at your worst and they're at their worst… you have every reason to give up, and you still decide you want to try again…” She catches a tear as it falls and smiles up at him. “Do you want to try again?” 

“I do… but—” Maddie tightens her hold, stares deep into his eyes. “I do.” 

“Then you have to tell him how you feel.” 

“What if I waited too long… what if he doesn’t feel the same anymore?” 

“Only one way to find out,” Maddie says. She’s right. He has to tell him. 

There’s a knock at the door…

Athena gets it. “Oh…” she says around a laugh. She stares through the crack she’s made in the door for a moment, “Well I’ll be damned. Looks like you might have your answer sooner than you thought.” 

Maddie lets go of Buck's face and he walks over to the door… to see Tommy standing at the door. Well, leaning really… panting as he tries to catch his breath. “T- Tommy?!” 

“Hey,” Tommy says, and smiles. It lights every nerve in Buck’s body up. 

“Hey?” Buck repeats. “What are you— Why are you… wait…” There’s no elevator in this complex. “How did you get up here?!” 

Tommy’s smile spreads, Buck's heart swells. “Not easily,” he admits. 

“Ain’t that the truth…” a voice says from the hall. Morris steps into view. If Tommy looked exhausted… Morris looked half dead.

“Can we talk?” Tommy asks, and Buck tries to find words—unsure of what words he’s even looking for. Then Tommy lifts his hand to the door frame, uses it for support as he takes a step into the loft. He stumbles and everyone jumps to catch him, but Buck is who he reaches for, grabbing his arms and steadying himself back onto his feet. Tommy clings to Buck's arm… and that’s when Buck sees it. 

The bracelet. 

Tommy follows Buck’s eyes to his wrist. “Oh, uh… yeah. I— maybe I shouldn’t have already put it on…” He lets go of Buck, and brings the arms close to his body, picking at the different beads of the bracelet, the faintest hint of a blush creeping to his cheeks. 

“No it’s— it’s fine,” Buck quickly says. “It’s yours. Of course you should wear it… but how did you get it?” 

Tommy looks at Morris. Morris rolls his eyes. “What? I found it after you left… it said to Tommy with a heart,” he says, a little mockingly… but not hostile. “What should I have done; thrown it away before he could see it?” Morris looks at Buck and Buck feels his lips tug upward. 

He feels a little nudge from behind. “Tell him,” Maddie whispers. 

“Tommy, I—” 

“Do you mean it?” Tommy asks, still looking at the bracelet. He slowly lifts his eyes to Buck’s, searching them for the answer before Buck can give it. 

Buck thinks of everything they have been through; all the good, all the bad, all the doubt, and pain, and uncertainty… 

He reaches out and touches the bracelet, runs his fingers over each bead. 

-- -.-- / ..-. --- .-. . ...- . .-. (My Forever) 

Does he mean it? Is this what he wants? 

Buck feels the vice that has been around his heart for so long, loosen for a change, and moves his hand up to cup Tommy’s cheek.  “Of course I do… I love you!” He smiles and it spreads so easily across his face, he forgets how long it’s been since he’s truly done it last. “And I’m never going to make you doubt that aga—” Tommy leans forward, catching Buck’s lips, successfully silencing him… he doesn’t mind. 

“Finally…” is (not quietly) mumbled in three different voices around them. He doesn’t mind that either, they are all quickly fading into the background of existence at the moment anyway. All he cares about is that Tommy is here, and he is in his arms, and he is kissing him. 

Tommy finally pulls away and Buck tries to chase after. “Hold on, I need to breathe,” he gasps, swaying on his feet. 

“Here,” Morris says, getting Tommy’s chair from the hall, and unfolding it. “Please sit down before you pass out.” Buck helps Tommy lower into the seat, keeping a hand on him, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever let go of him again. “So, does this mean we don’t have to pack up all your crap, now?” 

Tommy’s face falls, and Buck’s heart follows. 

“About that…” he says, fidgeting awkwardly in his chair. “I don’t really have a choice.” 

“What do you mean?” Buck asks. 

“Well… my release date may have gotten pushed out a little,” he says, and throws his hands up defensively when everyone gasps and questions start flying. “I’m fine, I just… I fell…” 

“What?!” 

“When?!”

“How?!” 

“And you climbed the stairs?!” Buck adds. 

Tommy smiles and shrugs. “I needed to talk to you.” Buck swallows the frustrated groan he wants to let out. He takes Tommy’s hand. “I’m really okay. It just set me back some… and the doctor at Whispering Pines called for six more weeks. My insurance won’t pay for that… and— and I didn’t think I had anything left for me here, so…” He squeezes Buck’s hand. 

“Well you do,” Maddie says before Buck can. “Can you just transfer to a facility here?” 

“The only one accepting new patients is the outpatient one,” Buck says. (Yeah… maybe he was already checking from when he was going to confront Tommy earlier.) He glances over to Morris. He wasn’t wrong—whether Buck had wanted to admit it or not—it wouldn’t be easy with Tommy needing constant assistance. 

“Okay, and,” Athena says, putting her hands on her hips. “Like Maddie said, Tommy has plenty here. Us; his family.” 

Maddie nods enthusiastically. “Between all of us I’m sure we can figure out a schedule to get you through the rest of your recovery?” 

“Yeah?” Buck says unsure. Athena gives him that stern look, and he laughs. “Yeah… yeah of course we can figure this out.” 

“But… I couldn’t ask that of—” 

“You’re not asking,” Athena says. “We’re offering. I, for one, know of a certain 18 year old who has a lot of free time while he works off his probation,” she adds. “And he enjoys hanging out with the cool fire pilot anyway. We got you, Tommy.” 

Maddie and Morris nod in agreement. Buck squeezes Tommy’s hand. “So what do you say?” He asks. “Will you come home?”  

Tommy blinks back against newly building tears, he looks around at them all—he looks at Buck—and smiles. “Okay… I'll come home.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@bucksxkinard & @marvelousbuckley Thank you both for giving this one a read through <3

@30somethingautisticteacher @girlwonder-writes @kinkley-are-adorkable-flirts @sira1420 @somethingaboutfirefly @ilikethe-internet @itsametaphorok @mannafromtevan

(let me know if you want to be tagged in the last part <3)

one more chapter. The Epilogue! Will be posted tomorrow <3

[taruusmoon]

EX

Pairing; Kim Taeyoung (Tatter) x fem reader

Summary: A month after the breakup, Tatter can't help but feel lost, even if it was her fault. Until she see u again.

Warnings; angst, argument. Tatter confused with her feelings for Bada. Themes of cheating but no one cheats (I think so). Grammar mistakes

WC: 4.4k

AN: So instead of post something for my other works here I am writing some angst with Tatter :): But enjoy

The screams outside the backstage area echoed throughout the place; the producers were running around trying to get everything ready, and the teams were practicing for the last time before the presentations that would define the end of the program. It was not a normal night of a normal day. It was finally the end of the second season of the famous Street Woman Fighter program, and everyone was nervous about it. Tatter was one of them. 

     Taeyoung was by far one of the dancers who had attracted attention since the beginning of the show. People started to know her name, and faster than she expected, she became quite popular. However, along with that came the pressure, and the closer the moment of truth came, the more nervous she became. She was distanced from the conversation that her companions were having at her side; she dedicated herself to moving her body, practicing the first choreography that they had to present in the final. However, despite the shouts of the audience and the busy atmosphere that surrounded her, Lusher's sudden words pierced her ears, stopping completely what she was doing.

“What did you just say?” She asked. Lusher, who had her back to her, turned to look at her, along with her other teammates. “Seoyoung, what did you say?”

“I invited y/n to the final," Lusher answered after a few long seconds, "and she accepted.”

     It had been a long time since Tatter had last heard your name. And now that she was finally hearing it again, her heart pounded as hard as the first time you met. She knew that Seoyoung still had contact with you because, after all, you had become best friends; however, she never imagined that Lusher would invite you, let alone that you would accept. 

     All the girls were silent as they looked at the blonde girl. Tatter didn't respond to Lusher's words; instead, her gaze shifted to Bada, who was already scowling at her in anticipation of her reaction. With a slight pain in her chest, she turned and walked in the direction of the stairs leading to the stage. She sat down on one of the steps and bit her lower lip, beginning to feel a little nervous. In an attempt to calm herself down, she brought her hand to her wrist, taking between her fingers the small silver charm that bore the initials of your name. It had been the first gift you had given her on your first anniversary.

“Are you all right?” Bada appeared at her side and took a seat next to her. The girls had moved a little away. 

“If it was all my fault, then why do I feel so bad every time I remember her?”

     Everything was ruined one night a month ago. When Taeyoung opened the door to the apartment you shared and found you sitting on the couch, your legs pulled up to your chest, and you were staring at the TV even though your eyes weren't really paying attention. The clock had barely struck two in the morning, and Tatter was surprised.

     “Shouldn't you be in bed by now?” She asked in a soft tone of voice as she walked in your direction with the only thought of taking your hand and heading to the room you shared.

“Where were you?" You looked at Taeyoung, and she stopped walking and stood in the middle of the room, frowning as she noticed the strange glint in your eyes, wet eyelashes, and puffy eyelids. You had cried, and she knew it. 

     “I was in practice.”

“Lusher said that the practice ended at ten," you replied, pressing the power button on your phone over and over in an attempt to calm the rapid palpitations of your heart. "You were with her?”

“Who are you talking about?” Taeyoung put down her practice bag on the sofa and then sat down on the glass coffee table in front of you.

“You know who I'm talking about." You didn't know if it was the tone of voice you used, but the expression on Taeyoung's face became heavy, as if she knew what was about to come and was already fed up with the fight that hadn't even started yet.

“Can't I go out with my best friend?" The question alone made you frown in disgust. Tatter took a long breath, got up, and walked in the direction of the kitchen in search of a glass of water. 

“You know that's not the problem." With your heart pounding in your chest, you got up to follow her. “The problem is that Bada seems to be owning your time more and more. And it's getting damn tiring...”

“Don't curse because you know I hate it," she interrupted, and you instantly felt tears prick your eyes as you noticed that Taeyoung had ignored all the other things you said. "Why are you making a big deal out of this?”

“This isn't about me, Taeyoung!” You finally snapped, and Tatter looked at you with a confused frown. “You don't even remember?” The blonde swallowed thickly, starting to feel guilty at the disappointed expression on your face. “It was going to be the first stupid dinner we were going to have this whole month; you even invited your mom, and she accepted even though you were coming so late. She left after midnight when I told her you were with Bada after watching all the damn videos on Twitter. Your mother even apologized to me on your behalf.”

      Guilt immediately filled Tatter's body; she left the glass on the sink and walked in your direction, ready to wrap her arms around you. However, as soon as she tried to do so, her arms never reached your body. You held her arms before she managed to do so, and for Taeyoung, the simple action caused a huge pain in her chest. You had never refused any kind of affection from her before, not even if you both had fought or if you were angry about something.

“Are you in love with her, Taeyoung?”

     The question took Tatter by surprise, and her eyebrows furrowed as she looked straight into your eyes in confusion and surprise. However, the feeling of guilt became stronger, and she couldn't help but feel that she had been discovered. The truth was that two months ago she had also begun to question herself about the same thing, but she was too afraid to do anything to find an answer to her questions.

“What are you talking about?” She tried to play it cool by taking your hands in hers tightly. 

“Stop doing this about me!” you shook your hands, pulling yourself out of her grip. “This is about you—about the lies and all your excuses. About what you won't admit to wanting. You think I don't see it?” Taeyong's eyes flooded with tears, and your cheeks moistened. “Everything you do for her and how you act when you're with her. You like Bada, Taeyoung.”

“Nothing ever happened between Bada and me.”

    “I'm not saying that, I know. But it's crossed your mind, hasn't it?”

    Tatter couldn't deny it, even if she wanted to. Even though the thoughts had been so fleeting that she could barely remember them, they were still real. At Taeyoung's silence, more tears moistened your cheeks, and when this happened, the blonde pursed her lips, denying with guilt sown on her face. She was going to hug you again, and this time you didn't plan to refuse; however, the ringtone of her phone interrupted the moment. Tatter looked at you for a few seconds before pulling her cell phone out of the jacket she was wearing, and on the screen, you could both read ‘Bada’.

Why Bada was calling Taeyoung in the middle of the night if they had just met? You didn't know, and although you doubted it, neither did Tatter. She stared at you with the cell phone still in her hand. The first call cut out, but almost immediately a second one came in again. You looked at Taeyoung with crystallized eyes, and in your mind, you could only pray that she wouldn't answer the phone. Somehow, it all felt like some kind of test for you. And if Tatter would let her phone ring and decide to try to fix the problem that threatened your relationship, then so would you. But things lately don't seem to be running in your favor. 

     “Hello?” Taeyoung's trembling voice as she answered the phone warmed your heart, and when she turned away for privacy, you understood everything. She was choosing Bada Lee over you. Again. 

     You didn't realize how long Taeyoung talked to Bada, but the whole time you stood in the same place, standing by the small kitchen island with your eyes fixed on the picture stuck on the refrigerator. It was a picture of you and Tatter on your first anniversary.

     “I have to go” Taeyoung's warm voice caused you to shiver, and the touch of her hand on your shoulder felt strange. But all you could think of was what she meant by having to leave if she had just arrived. “Bada needs me...” and of course, Bada was involved with her decision.

“Do you remember that once, a long time ago, I told you that someday you were going to break my heart?” You said it almost in a whisper, and Tatter's hand trembled on your arm. "But it's my fault. It's my fault for falling for you again and again, even though I know you won't choose me. What does she have that I don't?”

     Taeyoung didn't know what to say. She had no idea why, all of a sudden, the feelings she had for Bada started to emerge. You had everything; she loved you more than she loved herself. But somehow her eyes found themselves looking in another direction when she was with you. And even if she tried to stop herself, she wasn't succeeding. 

     “We'll talk about this when I get back. I promise," Taeyoung spoke with hope in her voice, but she received no response. And without being able to wait any longer, she turned towards the door. 

      “No, we won't," you said, though Tatter couldn't hear you.

Three hours later, when the clock struck seven in the morning, Taeyoung walked through the apartment door again. She threw her car keys on the living room table and walked to the room you both shared when she didn't found you in the living room or kitchen. Yet you were not there, or anywhere else in the house or apartment complex. Your clothes, your jewelry, and shoes were all gone. The only thing that still remained, were the gifts Taeyoung had given you over the years that you had been together. Also on the bedside table was the red bracelet with the initials of your name on it. 

     Tatter tried to call you many, many times and tried to reach you by any way possible. But soon her number and social media were blocked, leaving her with no alternative. She even called Lusher, who in a short time had become your best friend, but when the girl answered the phone, she didn't hesitate to lie about you, even though Tatter knew she was doing it. Within hours you disappeared, and no one seemed to know where you were.

     After a month, Taeyoung ceased her attempts to communicate. She was still texting you, still calling you, and still frequenting your favorite places to no avail. If you wanted to disappear and hide from her, you had succeeded. 

     Until that day. The grand finale of the program.

"It's time to go. Let's go. Let's go!" Sowoen appeared next to Bada and Tatter, interrupting the blonde girl's thoughts. 

     The two girls stood up; Bada walked to one of the producers, while Taeyoung stood next to her teammates in silence. Somehow, the atmosphere had become a little awkward between them. The other girls except for Bada were also keeping in communication with you, but none of them had said it, even though Taeyoung knew it.

     "It's your lucky day, Tata." Lusher rounded her shoulders and whispered in her ear. "She didn't agree to go to the party after the finals, but I'll make her go. So I'm giving you a chance to talk to her again."

     Seoyoung didn't say another word, and when Tatter was about to answer her, she let go of her shoulders and walked to the stairs. It was finally time for the team to perform in front of the audience. Taeyoung took a long breath and followed her teammates. When she was in front of the crowd of people, she couldn't help but scan her eyes through the entire audience in hopes of seeing you. However, it was difficult due to the number of people, so she gave up and took her position to start the choreography.

While Cockiness was full of sensuality, Praise and Run it were full of feelings. But both were performances that blew you away. The girls had done an amazing job, and when their name was mentioned as the winner, excitement ran through your body, so you helplessly shouted their name along with everyone. Although when your eyes fell on Taeyoung, seeing her crying non-stop with her leader and subleader, your heart squeezed a little. You wanted to go to her, hug her, and tell her she had done amazing. However, it was other arms that held her and other lips that encouraged her. 

     On stage, Tatter wiped away her tears. She wasn't sure if she was crying because she had won first place in the final or because she saw you in the crowd chanting her name. 

      The final ended after eleven o'clock at night. Lia Kim had organized a small party in celebration, and as soon as everyone was ready, they left the CJ Entertainment building. Taeyoung took Cheche and Sowoen with her in her car, while Bada was accompanied by Lusher, Kyma, and Minah. The four girls had left a few minutes earlier, as Seoyoung planned to meet you outside the building.

      “I'm sure she's already home, Seoyoung," Bada muttered as she looked down the sidewalk for you. “Why don't you call her?”

“I tried, but she's not answering, and she has her Find My IPhone deactivated," answered the girl typing on her phone.

“Why do you have her location?” Kyma got in the middle of the front seats and asked Lusher with a frown, but Lusher just shrugged her shoulders, trying to call you back. 

      “Wait!” Minah shouted, causing Bada to slow down the car. “Isn't that her?” And Minah was right. Under the dim light of the bus stop, you and five other people were waiting. Bada turned around the corner until she was right in front of you.

     “Hey lover” as soon as you heard the voice, you frowned, looking towards the car that was parked in front of you and the girl who had her head out of the window with a beaming smile. “Get in.”

“What?” you answered sharply. “Of course not and move over because here comes the bus.”

      “If you don't get in, then we won't move.” Lusher insisted. “Right Bada?” The girl in the other seat looked at you with an apologetic expression on her face. 

      “Lee Seoyoung move," you spat but she ignored you. "Lee Bada go.”

Bada looked at you with a shrug of her shoulders, a little surprised that you had addressed her after all that had happened. However, she still didn't move her car, and when you noticed that they were all together with Lusher, you had no choice but to open the back door, finding Minah and Kyma with a triumphant smile on their faces.

     “I have to work tomorrow," you reported as the car started moving.

     “Don't be a liar; you told us yesterday that you were on vacation." As soon as you heard Kyma's words, you rolled your eyes, a little annoyed by the matter.

     “You can at least tell me where we are going.”

     “To the celebration party at Lia Kim's house. 

     You knew it; deep inside, you knew that Lusher wasn't going to take no for an answer, and it was clear that all the others—except Taeyoung—were going to act with her. And even if you wanted to get out of Bada Lee's car at that instant and head home, you couldn't do it. And in fact deep down you didn’t want to either. Resigned, you didn't answer Lusher; instead, you leaned your head against the back of the seat, accidentally glancing at the rearview mirror of the car, discovering that Bada was already looking at you in advance. However, as soon as your gazes met, she looked down at the highway again. With a long breath, you closed your eyes, deciding to forget what had happened. 

     The drive to Lia Kim's house took Bada over forty minutes. When all of you arrived, there was already a line of cars parked at the curb, and when you entered the 1Million leader's house, music flooded through your ears. There were quite a few people—all the contestant girls from the show and one or two companions they had brought along. There was alcohol, but not too much due to the presence of the underage girls. But the atmosphere was still fun. 

    Kyma and Minah slipped through the crowd to where Cheche and Sowoen were. Bada had walked over to where the Jam Republic girls were and circled the shoulders of a person unknown to you, making you a little curious. 

      “Who is that?” you asked, pointing to Bada with your chin as you walked behind Lusher in the direction of one of the sofas in the house.

“That's Bada's partner; they've been dating for about three months.” Lusher's answer surprised you, and the girl seemed to notice it instantly: "What? You thought she and Taeyoung started dating when you two broke up?” The girl giggled at your silence and then extended a glass filled with some strange content to you.

     After the brief conversation with Lusher, none of you brought up the topic again. After all, throughout the time that passed after the breakup, if you didn't ask about Tatter, none of the girls said anything, and you were grateful for it since you wanted to avoid any contact with her. Although it was kind of stupid since, at that moment, you were at the same party as her, and although at the beginning you found yourself looking for her with your eyes every now and then, after a couple of glasses of alcohol and a long conversation with the girls from 1Million and Deep n' Dap, your mind forgot about her.       

But it wasn't the same for Taeyoung; on the other side of the room, leaning against the wall, she had been watching you since you had walked through the door. She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she was completely unaware of the conversation Minah and Cheche were having, not even noticing when Bada approached her. It wasn't until the Bebe leader tapped her on the shoulder that she was able to come back to reality.

“Do you think I should talk to her?” Bada asked hesitantly, scratching her neck as she looked in your direction. 

     “Why should you talk to her?”

      “I don't know; maybe it will help if I'm the one who clears things up for her. Maybe she will talk to you. 

      “I don't think that's the...”

     And with the thought of fixing Taeyoung's relationship with you, Bada headed in your direction ignoring Tatter. Lusher, who was sitting next to you, was the first one to notice Bada, and she would have found it normal if it weren't for the girl's gaze fixed on you as she clutched the glass bottle in her hand.

      “I think we need to talk," she blurted out, gaining stares from the girls and a raised eyebrow from you. “Please.”

     You didn't know exactly what to say, so you simply got up from the couch and started walking to the backyard of the house with Bada Lee behind you. As soon as you were under the moonlight, you stopped, both of you not knowing what to say. For a few minutes, you stood there, looking at the plants that decorated the garden. Until Bada decided she had to say something.

     “I'm dating someone," she murmured with her eyes fixed on you, staring at you as you frowned and then looked at her. 

      “Congratulations?”

      “And I think you should talk to Youngtae," she said a little nervously under your gaze. Even if she was older than you, somehow she felt a little intimidated. "I know I'm not the best person to tell you this, but I really think you owe Taeyoung a chance to explain things. 

     “What makes you think I didn't give her a chance to do so?”     

 “You left that night without saying anything, and you've ignored her ever since, I think...”

      “Look Bada just like you said, you're not the best person to have this conversation.” You interrupted her without wanting to listen to the girl's explanations. Even if it had already been a month since the breakup, you still felt a bit resentful towards Bada, even though she wasn't to blame for anything. “But, give me just one reason to talk with Taeyoung.”

     “Nothing happened between me and Tatter," she took a long breath before continuing. “At least not when you were together.”

If Bada thought the words that came out of her mouth would make you want to talk to Taeyoung, she was very wrong. "Nothing happened, at least not when you two were together." The phrase echoed in your head over and over again, creating all the insecurities and bad thoughts you once had. If you had more courage, you would have surely complained to Taeyoung about the short time it had taken her to go into Bada's arms, but you wouldn't, because if you didn't want to see her before, you didn't want to see her now even less. 

      “Is that supposed to be a reason to talk to Taeyoung?” With the tone of voice you used, Bada immediately understood the result of her words, so she tried to correct it. 

      “It's not how you're thinking about it," she hastened to say. “A week after you left, Youngtae told me the real reason for the breakup. At first, I didn't understand it because, in my eyes, she never showed any feelings for me, but then she kept apologizing for it and I didn't know what to say. I love Youngtae like my baby sister.” Bada took a moment before continuing. “So I kissed her.”

     “It really doesn't interest me...

     “She started crying instantly," Bada interrupted. “Taeyoung cried all night in my apartment because I kissed her and because she got her feelings mixed up. She never liked me, and...”

“How can you say she never liked you? Are you saying that my relationship was ruined because Taeyoung was confused with her feelings?” you asked, a bit stunned by what Bada had just said. You didn't doubt her words, but it was hard to understand that it had all been a mistake. “We could all tell how she was acting with you. You can't come now and tell me that my relationship of three years was ruined by a stupid confusion of feelings.” Bada tried to answer, but her mouth closed as soon as you interrupted her with a gesture. “You don't know how many nights I spent alone because she chose you.”

     “I'm being honest with you..." Again, Bada was interrupted, but this time it wasn't you. Bada's eyes looked behind you, so curiously, you turned around, finding the last person you wanted to see at that moment. 

     Starting to get a little nervous, you turned again in Bada's direction, who, with a pleading look, said a silent "please." Although she didn't even give you time to think about it and respond, she quickly walked back inside the house. Letting out a breath of resignation, you turned again in the direction of Tatter, who was still in the same place, with the wind ruffling his blond hair and his eyes shining.

“I've missed you," was the first thing she said, and then she cut the distance, wrapping her arms around your body and creating a strong embrace that you had been waiting for so long. “I'm sorry for everything that happened that night.”

      You didn't know exactly if sorry was what you had wanted to hear all that time. However, when Taeyoung said those words, you calmed down, even though Bada's words were still deep inside your head. It didn't matter what she had explained because the only thing that kept repeating itself was a constant "Nothing happened, at least not when you were together." And even though the words had only served to explain the confusion in Tatter's feelings, jealousy and some doubts still coursed through your body. 

     If Taeyoung's feelings had been true, then would she and Bada have started a relationship? The answer was clearly no, and you knew it. Bada's relationship and her own words about how she loved Tatter like a sister confirmed it. But still, the insecurity was there. 

     “Is it true what Bada said?” You didn't return the hug in the first instance, but you couldn't break away either. It had been a long time since Taeyoung had last hugged you, and you missed it. With your arms at your sides, you clenched your fists and laid your cheek on Tatter's shoulder. 

“I don't know what Bada said.”

“She said she kissed you." Your voice came out almost in a whisper, and you could feel Tatter hold her breath. “And that your feelings for her had been part of a confusion.”

     “I'm sorry.“

“Did you break my stupid heart because you were confused?” At that moment, your eyes filled with tears as Taeyoung placed one of her hands in your hair, pressing your cheek against her shoulder. “Did we ruin our damn relationship over a stupid thing?”

“Forgive me.”

“Why aren't you scolding me for saying too many curses?”

“You can curse me all you want if it means we'll go back to the way we were before.” Her words made you smile, and by inertia, your arms moved to her waist to reciprocate the hug. “It was my fault for letting my eyes look in another direction when I was with you, and it was my fault for thinking those thoughts meant something else, when they weren't even remotely similar to the thoughts I had when I fell in love with you. I'm sorry for making it seem, through my actions, that we weren't meant for each other. 

     Taeyoung's words hit deep in your heart, and you felt the need to believe her. So you did.

“It's going to cost you a little more than that to fix things.” You pulled away a little, but without breaking the embrace. Taeyoung nodded with a half-smile. Carefully, you brought one of your hands to her cheeks, wiping the wetness on them. ”Please don't doubt your feelings again because I won't be able to bear it again.

“I won't.”

[boybandposter]

[Headcanons]

⤷𐙚 featuring: Everett 🤍

⤷𐙚 there is a sections for NSFW ‼️ Nothing detailed/explicit but there is implied sex and preferences.

˚✧₊⁎🧁⁎⁺˳✧༚

- I feel like due to his past regarding Ophelia, he has a hard time trusting people and letting them become anything closer than an acquaintance. Despite being a caring individual, he doesn’t want to experience another betrayal.

- Everett’s love language is gift-giving. As a staunch believer in “actions speak louder than words”, he’d much rather show than tell. Although his disability can make it a bit tough, Everett is determined to make sure the people he loves know that he cares.

- If Everett catches feelings for you, he’s in denial. Him? Like someone else romantically? Never. Everett would avoid you at times, but he’d subconsciously seek out your company anyway.

- If When he confesses to you, he’s blubbering like an idiot. He was already so quiet and the few words he had were long gone from his thoughts. A bright pink would stain his cheeks after admitting his feelings, and would quietly ask for a kiss (What a gentleman).

- He asked if he could be your boyfriend instead of the other way around. In his eyes, it’s a privilege and blessing to be with you. After all, you’re taking in a broken man, physically and mentally. In all honesty, he’s shocked that you even said yes (even though you were crushing on him hard).

- If you like to bake, he’s head-over-heels. It’s one of the few things he truly enjoys, and if he could simply bake with you all day he would. His favorite is to bake cupcakes and watch you decorate them. If he can, he’ll purposefully wipe some flour onto his cheek— he’s planned it perfectly. You’ll tell him he has something on his face, he’ll act oblivious, then you’ll wipe it off with an endearing smile.

- With his job in the Esper Union, it makes it hard for him to find the time and energy to do things with you. On his night shifts, he’ll shuffle into your shared apartment and immediately make his way to your room. Even if Everett is about to pass out, he’ll always make sure to give a lingering kiss on your cheek. Whispering apologies and sweet nothings into your ear before changing and climbing into bed with you.

- You have a favorite flower? Well, Everett will make sure to buy you a fresh bouquet every week with a small note filled with his love and signature. He always feels his cheeks turn pink when he opens his phone to a text from you, thanking him as usual and telling him how much you love him. His coworkers often catch him rubbing his face with his hand to try and calm himself down after getting praise from you.

NSFW

- Everett’s a bottom. Let’s make this clear; after his past trauma, he wants nothing more than to be taken care of by his woman. He never really knew it, but then again he never saw himself in a relationship.

- Please praise him, he goes crazy when you talk to him and give him little words of encouragement. The first time you called him a “good boy”, he immediately folded and quietly begged to hear you say it again.

- If you were to ask him to top you, he wouldn’t ever say no. Everett only has two positions if he’s topping— missionary and mating. And by the gods was he gentle. Slow, deep, and even strokes as he quietly pants against the skin of your neck, small bites here and there. Everett feels awful every time he leaves a mark and profusely apologizes when he sees the small bruises along your hips and the small bites left along your shoulders and collarbone.

- Aftercare, aftercare, aftercare. Everett would have to be out of his mind if he didn’t take care of his beautiful girlfriend after she worked so hard for him. He’s gentle in bed and outside of it. He’ll always clean you up (with a little help from you due to his limitations) and make you some dinner. Once you’re asleep, he’ll take a little extra time to clean up where he can, just for a little extra time with you in the morning.

˚✧₊⁎🧁⁎⁺˳✧༚

⤷𐙚 authors note: erm. Yeah, IDK IVE NEVER REALLY WRITTEN NSFW BYE. 🙁

[supersizemeplz]

Don’t Mute Me

Erik Stevens x Black PlusSized Reader

A mini #supersizedfic based on the photo below. Excuse any typos and I hope you enjoy! ❤️

The mass of crossed conversations filled the air between the people that weaved in and out of the stores filling the mall. A light chill was in the air of the current shop that the gleeful woman occupied. Moniece grinned as she accepted the receipt from the cashier of the boutique before wishing them a quick and calm shift. Her booted heels aided her in her quick steps as she exited the door and back into the crowd. She was thankful that she went with the shorter heeled booties instead of the heels she first looked at this morning.

Vibrations in her pocket caught her attention and she balanced the bags in her hand to answer the call. "Good morning, Stevensss." She sang out as she adjusted her airpod in her ear, smiling at the screen as he adjusted his phone. "Don't you look handsome in your turtleneck."

He adjusted the dark fabric around his neck, chuckling. The gold watch on his wrist caught the sunlight as well as the chain around his neck. "Thank you, thank you. I only wore it because I know you like it when I do." She does.

"I'm glad you know. Professionalism fits you well, Mr. Stevens. I love a versatile man." She took a moment to look away from the screen. Her eyes searched for her favorite wing spot. Just Wing It. Erik showed her the place a few months prior and she found herself having to get something from there every time she visited the food court. "How did the presentation go at the office?"

She watched as he focused on turning before he glanced at her again. "It went really, baby. You know how persuasive your man can be." He sent her a wink as he spoke. "And we'll be starting their new development a little after the spring. We just have a few revisions to get approved and then we wait."

"That's amazing, E! I told you that everything would go smoothly." She beamed with genuine excitement. "Now you can relax a little. Maybe we can try out that new restaurant that you've been wanting to try. It's been a minute since our schedules have allowed us to have a date night. With her shopping bags in her left hand, she walked up to the counter and gifted the older woman at the register a soft smile. "Hold on real quick, babe." She spoke to Erik before she muted the microphone. He replied to her a relaxed, "Aight, baby".

"Hey, sweetie. What can I get for you?" The woman greeted, tapping the screen as she awaited her order. Moniece looked up to the menu as if she didn't already know what she was going to order. Today, she hadn't had breakfast so she could go for a little extra in her meal. Her phone vibrated in her hand with a notification that Erik sent her enough money to cover her meal. And possibly go back and get those shoes to match the bag she just bought.

She ordered her usual with a little extra on the side, handing over her card with a smile before she accepted her large lemonade. "You made it a large, huh? Extra wet and double fries?" He suddenly spoke, making her eyes snap to down to look at him on the screen. He gave her a big, dimpled smile that was contagious. She didn't speak up at first and he chuckled at her silence. "Don't put me on mute, girl. I don't care that you ordered a little extra. I eat more than that all the time."

"I didn't order a large, if you must know.." She spoke with a faux attitude, rolling her eyes playfully. "I supersized it and added lemon pepper sprinkles." A smile spread across her lips as he laughed. He was so goofy. "I can't stand you. And I can pay for my own food, sir."

He turned off the engine of his car, finally picking up his phone to admire her closer. "Now you know I take care of my baby and I don't wanna hear your pretty ass getting on to me for it.. And I just know you smell as good as you look." He was right. The soft groan he let out was enough for you to know that he could envision your scent from memory. "Warm and sweet, just lik-"

"Alright, sir. Don't get yourself worked up before you are in those folks faces." She couldn't help her giggle that escaped. He found that so cute about her.

"You wouldn't help your man out?" The sounds of the door opening and his keys jingling as he got out took over. Two beeps indicated his car locking as he made his way back to the office. "I could be a little late coming back."

"Baby, help you do what? All I can do is pray for you." He smacked his lips at that response, trying to hide his smile. She laughed at him pursing his lips. Her ticket number was called and she thanked the cashier as she accepted the bag of food. "I'm sorry, babe. It was the perfect set up."

"You always have a tik tok reference for everything." He smirked, shaking his head as he gave a passing wave to one of his coworkers. "But I'm about to walk back in so I'll see your fine ass at home. Maybe you can try on all your new outfits and model them for me?"

"Of course, baby. Me and my outfits will be waiting for you when you get home. I might even make your favorite meal tonight." She sent him a wink of her own and he grinned.

"You keep winking at me and that ain't the only thing I'll be eating." The laugh she let out at that made him chuckle.

"Bye, Stevens. Because you are acting up right now." She started the car before resting back against the driver's seat. He licked his lips before nodding.

"Alright, baby. Getting home to you will be what gets me through the day." She smiled at his words. "Now gimme kisses so I can go make us some more money."

[macabr3-barbi3]

New Love, New Skin (Chapter 2)

banner made by my LOVE @fraugwinska 🩵🩷

A few months after Vincent's arrival in Hell, his relationship with Kora takes its first turn.

Chapter 1

Tags: fast burn lol; 69 (Sex Position); Blow Jobs; Cunnilingus; Baby's First Bluescreen lol

Chapter 1 📺 Chapter 2 💛 Chapter 3 📺  Chapter 4  💛 Chapter 5

September 1958

Kora was running late from work, and Vincent was only a little worried about her.

He knew that she could handle herself, like he could, but that didn’t make the vague sense of unease any easier to stomach. He had come to care for her in his own way- they were friends now, easily better friends than any he had had when he was alive. She didn’t really want anything from him, never expected him to give up more than she would give him back. It was a change from his life that he was remembering more and more about every day- people that clung to him because they thought he could help get them further in their career, thought that he could do more for them than should have been expected. It was a nice change of pace but she was almost a little too doting, sometimes; always making sure that he got his fill before she took hers whether it was food, coffee, the next book that she wanted to read.

They had established a pretty regular routine in the eight months that he had been staying with her. She would leave the apartment early in the morning for a walk, coffee pot brewing before he awoke, and he would have some form of breakfast on his own before she returned and got ready for her courier duties, delivering postage and packages all over the two rings of Hell. The woman was Hell on wheels, her bike getting her most places faster than the shitty public transit system ever could with how often it was breaking down and getting held up by turf wars. The days that she worked that job he would wait to shower until after she left; when she had the morning off he would do it while she listened to the morning news and read in the living room. She usually got home at ten these days and would go work her second job at Viv’s from noon until ten, when she would come home with some version of leftovers and tales of shitty customers. Today was a rare day that she had off from Viv’s and it was approaching 11:30 with no sign of her, and the antsy, unsettling sense of something in his gut was persistent.

Vincent had gotten his own part-time job at the news station, even if he hated it. He felt like there was so much more that they could be doing, other markets that they could be capitalizing on, other kinds of shows they could be putting out to make more profit. For now though he was just a production assistant, running scripts and coffee. He would much rather spend his time at the apartment with Kora, but he felt it was fair that he contribute at least a little after all that she had done for him- letting him stay with her rent free for months now, making sure that he had clothes and food and such before he started going out into the world, filling him in on how things worked in Hell.

The front door finally bursts open and Kora rushes through it soaked head to toe in mud, her golden hair and fur a gross shade of blackish brown. “Fucking assholes,” she seethes, “you would think some of these Overlords have better things to do than douse women on the street with their shit cars.” She crosses the living area as quick as she can, dipping into the bathroom. “Sorry, Vincent, I can’t stay long- Viv asked me to cover a shift since Eris never showed so I’m gonna be out later than usual, she’s usually scheduled til 2…” Her voice is drowned out by the shower being turned on, the faint rustling of clothes that Vincent could hear fading out.

He was a little put out by the news- he had been looking forward to hanging out with her one night off from Viv’s, which was now a full blown second job instead of just a gig for extra cash. They had agreed to stick together and try to find a bigger place, two bedrooms instead of just the one so they both had their own space. He had been missing her, how close they had been for a good while before he said something stupid and ruined it.

Kora had been getting physically closer to him over the time he had been staying with her- the distance between them on the couch ever-dwindling; her feet propped on his lap or head slumped close to his shoulder while they listened to the radio and read together; her entering the bathroom to grab something while he was naked and showering. A physical kind of closeness that he had never shared with anyone before. He had thought she was coming onto him, when she crowded him against the counter where he was leaning one day to reach around him for something instead of asking him to move or to grab it for her.

“You know,” Vincent had said, his voice low and suave, “you keep getting close to me like this and I might start getting the wrong idea.” He had been sure, so sure that she would take the bait, admit that she wanted him. Push up onto her tiptoes to close the last couple of inches between their faces like he had been craving for weeks, since he had noticed with startling clarity that he was attracted to her, and could want more.

Instead she had blushed, whined in her throat, backed away from him. Kora muttered an apology and scampered off that day and hadn’t been any closer than two feet from him since. It was driving him mad- he jerked off in the shower more days than he didn’t, both for easy cleanup and since it was really the only place he could get any privacy. She had only walked in during that one time, and the sudden shock of hearing her “sorry, Vin, I need this real quick” had had him spilling into his hand with a barely concealed groan, covering it up by coughing hard and throwing her a thumbs up through the curtain with his unoccupied hand. Since she had stopped touching him, stopping coming into the bathroom, he was constantly hard, constantly frustrated. 

The bathroom door squeaks open, and when Vincent comes out of his head and looks down the hallway he nearly chokes on his tongue.

It’s quick, a few seconds at most, but Kora is crossing the hallway from the bathroom to her bedroom in nothing but a towel, wrapped around her body under the arms and falling to her thighs. High on her thighs. He lets his eyes flick from the hem of the towel down her shapely legs and strong calves, reveling in the sight of her skin. Back up to the curve of her breasts, pushed up slightly be her crossed arms holding the towel in place before she disappeared into the bedroom. This felt different from when she wore her oversized shirts to bed, even though they hardly covered much more; here and now, besides the towel, she was bare. He could see it in his mind, how easy it would be to remove the cover with a mere brush of his hand, have her naked before him-

He was half-hard, he realized with a start, his prick stirring in his pants at the thought, and he’s mortified, grabbing the blanket off the back of the couch and throwing it in a heap over his lap. Vincent had no qualms about masturbation, but he didn’t relish the thought of Kora witnessing his erection caused by an accidental peep show as she crossed the hallway.

Good timing, as she emerged from her bedroom in the next minute. “Gotta dash,” she tells him, throwing her hair up into a ponytail. “You should probably be sleeping by the time I come home but help yourself to the leftovers in the fridge for dinner!” And she’s gone as quickly as she had come, door slamming behind her and leaving Vincent in a state of arousal and longing.

He watches her go, unlocking her bike and giving him her usual wave before she takes off. He stays seated as he is for a moment, wrestling with his subconscious; to rub one out or let it go away on its own? He had already showered once today, he didn’t really need to have another one. But the memory of her towel-clad frame was fresh on his mind and far too tempting; the dark shadow the towel cast on the space between her thighs, the droplets of water that dripped from her hair and down the expanse of her back, face flushed from the heat. 

He stands with a growl and heads to the bathroom, his plan being to splash some cool water on his neck- he didn’t think doing it to his face would help much- and ignore the now prominent hardness in his pants. But as soon as he enters he’s struck by the overwhelming scent of her soap, soft and feminine, like almond and honey and something that was so distinctly Kora . Vincent is already bent over the sink, and he sees his eyes change when the smell registers, the pupils getting wider, the pixels that act as eyelids dropping as his screen tints pink. She had just been here not fifteen minutes before, rubbing at her naked body, possibly dipping her hand between those plush thighs-

Vincent hardly has his hand shoved down his pants and wrapped around his cock enough to manage a full stroke before he’s coming, Kora’s name leaving him with a gasp, grasping the porcelain of the sink hard enough to cause a hairline fracture.

~~~~~~~

He throws his soiled clothes in the hamper and changes, determined now to not think about Kora for the rest of the evening. No matter how lovely she had looked in nothing but her towel. How lovely she looked all the time, really, in whatever she was wearing-

No, Vincent. Fucking stop.

He reminds himself that she doesn’t want him- he had offered her an invitation and she declined it. But fuck, if only that was enough to stop himself from wanting her. He would have to move out eventually; he couldn’t just stay here, wanting her when she was within arms reach and never being able to have her.

He reads to distract himself, having finished what was currently out of the Narnia books and moving on to Kora’s Agatha Christie collection. They kept his brain busy enough that he went a couple hours without the thought of her crossing his mind, mostly- sometimes he would get a little flash of an image, like a screensaver, of her face, of her body wrapped in the towel or covered with one of those damn t-shirts she wears. He would glare at the wall for a moment to clear his thoughts and go back to the book, more and more frustrated every time it happened. 

He finally ends up more hungry than bored, so he does bust out the leftovers that she had mentioned, planning on having a light meal before turning in for the night. Apparently the part of his brain wired to his prick had other ideas though, since his thought process went ‘chicken legs > regular legs > Kora’s legs > wrapped around waist?’ and rerouted all of his blood between his own legs. 

“Fuckin’ christ,” he snarls at his traitorous body, appetite vanishing at his once again ridiculously persistent bodily urges. It had only been a few hours since the bathroom, since he had taken himself in hand to the fresh memory of Kora’s wet body; he hadn’t been insatiable like this when he was alive, he was positive. He throws the leftover container back into the fridge with a groan, looking at the clock that hung on the wall. 

It was only ten in the evening- in theory, he had time to jerk off a second time before Kora came home from her later shift, rid himself of the pulsing ache in his groin when he thought of her today. 

Vincent settles back into the couch, pulls his shirt off to catch the mess he was sure to make and fists his cock. If he was going to do this he would do it right this time- let himself savor the mental images of Kora instead of trying to banish them. His eyes close and he pictures her again in the hallway, in the towel, but she comes towards him this time, lets the towel drop to the floor as she approaches so he can see her in all of her glory. 

He imagines reaching for her, cupping the warmth of her cunt with his large hands and pressing a finger in, already wet and ready for him. She would whine like she had that day in the kitchen but it would be because she wanted him, was ready for him to spread her legs and have his way with her already. Vincent would tease her, let his free hand run over her body, pinch and kiss and lick at her skin and her breasts, leave a trail of little marks in his wake that would show the world that he had had her. She would buck her hips into his hand, desperate for him, say his name in that sweet voice of hers.

And he would indulge her- he would let her ride his fingers until she was dripping with desire, lick her essence from his hands before laying her out on her bed and sliding into her slick heat. She would clench around him so perfectly, he knew she would. And she would want it slow and sweet at first, until it was too much, until she was begging him to fuck her harder, faster, more , and he would give it to her however the fuck she wanted. He wanted to lose his mind at the feeling of her walls pulling him into her, wringing every drop of ecstasy from his body with a cry of his name-

“Vincent?”

“Kora,” he moans, before he recognizes that the voice in his head had actually come from the door of the apartment, that the woman he was fantasizing about was standing not five feet away from him, eyes wide and trained on where he was jerking his cock to the thought of her. Vincent wishes he could say he had any sense of self preservation- instead he groans in his throat and strokes back down himself, instead of taking his fucking hands off his dick.

He closes his eyes again, doesn’t want to see the disgust on her face when she kicks him out for being a goddamn pervert. “God, Kora I’m so-“ 

“Vin.” Her voice is closer, much closer than he would have anticipated, and when he opens his eyes again he almost dies a second time at the sight of her knelt on the ground before him, hands coming up to rest in his knees. “Were you… thinking of me?”

She doesn’t look upset about the prospect- if he’s reading her right, she’s intrigued. Interested. “Yes,” he murmurs, helpless to lie or deny or put his fucking prick away, still held in the light grip of his fist. “Fuck, you know I was, baby.”

She bites her lip, eyes flicking between his screen and the leaking head of his dick. “I- can I?” She asks, reaching her hand towards his, and he doesn’t even care that the way he nods is desperate, so eager to have her hands on him that he doesn’t care how stupid he looks, eyes closing since he’s sure the sight of it would be too much. 

Imagine his surprise when instead of her hand, a warm, wet mouth closes around the head of his cock. He swallows back a curse as his eyes fly open, taking in the image of Kora bent over into his lap, pulling off the tip to lick at the fluid that drips from his aching erection, eyes closed like she’s fucking savoring the taste of him. “Fuck me, that’s sexy,” he mutters, and Kora’s lashes flutter to look back up at him and take him in her mouth again, sucking lightly. Her tongue laps at the underside, traces the vein that she finds and makes him groan. His fingers clench at his side, fighting back the urge to twist them into her golden locks and pull ever so slightly. 

Was he so sensitive back on Earth? Vincent couldn’t remember ever having a mouth on him that felt so fucking good before, but whether that was a testament to Kora or his still-new demon anatomy he couldn’t tell. “God, Kora,” he groans, “so fucking good, you’ve no idea-“

Her tail swishes across the floor behind her, a whine vibrating in her throat that ripples down his length, makes him buck his hips up into the wet heat of her. “Sorry, sorry,” he’s quick to say, but she takes him further into her mouth anyway, claws digging into the fabric of his pants where they grip his knees. It’s fucking divine, the feeling of her throat when he bumps it with the head of his cock, and the pleasurable tension in his abdomen is tightening, threatening to snap when he notices that Kora’s hips are shifting, subtly grinding into the air like she’s subconsciously searching for friction- something that he’s suddenly desperate to give her. He wants to lick into her cunt while she takes him into her mouth as far as she can- he’d only done something similar a few times on Earth, certainly hadn’t done it since he had come to Hell. But he thinks he might just about die if he can’t taste her.

“Stop, Kora, wait,” Vincent mumbles, finally wrapping his fingers in her hair so he can pull her off of him.

Her eyes are glazed, flicking between his erection and his face, her own face flushed and panting. “Am I- did I do something wrong?” She asks quietly, her hands leaving his knees and moving like she means to pull back entirely until he shifts his grasp from her hair to the side of her face, cupping her cheek.

“No, doll,” he says, taking a moment to breathe and stroke his thumb over her cheekbone. “I’m just too close- and I want you to come, too. Can I taste you? We can- at the same time, you know?” He hopes she’s understanding what he means, prayers answered when she hesitates only a moment before nodding and standing, pulling him behind her to the bedroom.

~~~~~~~

Vincent strips Kora down slowly, relishes in the gradual exposure of her skin and fur, so much better than his fantasy of letting her towel fall from her body. He gets to watch her shiver as his claws trail over her limbs and down the plane of her stomach, suck in a breath when his fingers dip below the waistband of her pants to tug them off of her. The shaky whimper she lets out when he undoes the clasp of her bra and cups her breasts is going to live in his mind forever, he’s sure of it, and he can’t help bending down to meet her lips, licking into her mouth and moaning at the taste of himself.

She clutches at his shirt, fingers fumbling to get the buttons undone and off his body. She whines when he presses a finger between her slick folds, mindful of the sharpness of them now and as careful as he can be with it when he pushes into her and loses his breath at her tightness. “Please, Vincent,” she’s whispering into his mouth between delicious slides of their tongues against one another, trying to drag his pants the rest of the way off of him, and he thinks he would rather choke than not give her what she wants. He would never deny her anything if she asked him in that tone.

They discard the rest of their clothing, and there’s a brief moment of awkwardness from Kora when Vincent lays back on the bed and encourages her to crawl over his body. Her face flushes; “I’ve never done anything like this before,” she says, unmoving from the edge of the bed, and his cock aches with his need for her.

“I promise you it’s fine,” he reassures her, “and you’re going to love it. But we can stop, if you want to.” It might kill him not to get his tongue inside of her, but if she was uncomfortable he wouldn’t push the issue.

Her brow twists and she straightens her shoulders, climbing up onto the mattress on her knees and situating herself opposite him, her hair tickling his thighs where she’s bent over him, breath hot over his straining cock. “Like this?” She asks, looking down her body back at him with a shy smile, and with a groan he situates his hands on her skin and drags her hips down to his mouth.

When his tongue dips into her Kora cries out, and for one of the first times since getting to Hell he’s glad for his new form- the muscle in his mouth is long and flexible, strong. He didn’t really have a jaw; he could eat her out for hours and probably never get tired or sore, he realized, and the thought drives his hips up, head of his cock bumping against her cheek where her head has fallen forward. And the fucking taste of her is intoxicating, the slick moisture of her folds on his tongue sending whatever constituted as a brain for him reeling at it. 

Her mouth finally closes back around the head of his cock, moaning when his tongue pushes into her cunt and flicks against her walls. The muscles of her thighs are tensed around his head where she kneels, hips subtly grinding down onto his mouth and screen, her arousal dripping from her core as she whines around him, bobbing her head in time with his tongue thrusting into her and pulling back to lick and suck at her clit. “Fuck, Kora baby, that’s fucking perfect,” he mutters into her pussy, “taste so sweet- perfect- f-f- fuck-” Something seems to be happening to his vocal cords; a strange tightening of them in his throat that, while not painful, is making it harder for words to come out. It makes sense he wouldn’t have noticed this before- he wasn’t usually so vocal on the cusp of an orgasm. But he needed her to know that she was being perfect for him, and the words simply fell from his mouth.

Kora seemed to enjoy it if the faint quivering swishes of her tail were anything to go by, brushing against the parts of his screen that weren’t buried between her legs as she takes him deeper. Her claws dig into the skin of his leg on one side and her throat convulses around him when he hits the back of it, a sinfully good squeeze around him while her tongue works tirelessly at the underside. Her free hand comes up to cup the delicate skin that rests below his cock, massaging gently with her fingers in a way that makes him grunt, the pleasure making his head hazy with want.

He tilts his head up, pushes his screen as close to her as he can possibly get, grabs her tail to hold it out of the way while he works. He tightens his grip on the appendage’s base for a moment before releasing it, and he’s rewarded with Kora freezing in his arms for a split second and then trembling uncontrollably as she comes, her hoarse shout of his name muffled by Vincent’s cock. He bucks his hips up, can’t control the action, and when she gags he struggles to bring his pelvis back down to the mattress. He coaxes her through her orgasm with his tongue, flicking gently at her sensitive clit and cleaning up what he can reach of the mess she’s made between them. He runs his hand down the flank of her back, fur damp with sweat from the exertion of her pleasure, of holding herself up above him. “So perfect, baby,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to her thigh and rolling them both to the side.

She gives an inquisitive moan when he pulls out of the sweet slickness of her mouth and repositions, crouched over her bare form with a hand slid under her head to twist into her hair, the other wrapping firmly around his cock. “God, Kora, I’m so close,” he breathes, impending release making his voice waver in the air between them, and she reaches down to lay her hand over his as he jerks himself, the taste of her still fresh on his tongue and the absolute vision of her spread beneath him. 

“Vin, please,” she pleads, bringing her unbusy hand up to grip at his bicep, her voice low and needy, and this is what sends him careening over the chasm into his release, vision going white with the force of it.

There’s a few blissful moments of nothing. Vincent feels like he’s floating, body non-corporeal and light.

When his vision returns he’s looking up at Kora, her expression concerned and teary-eyed, hair hanging over his screen like a curtain. Evidence of his orgasm splatters her chest and abdomen, fur streaked with it in a way that makes his brain fuzzy with a sort of possessive satisfaction. “Jesus Christ,” she whispers. “I thought you fucking died.”

“Huh?” His head is still a little blurry, reaching a hand up to cup her cheek. “Whadya mean?”

“Your screen went blank,” she says, and drops her head to his chest. “Just blinked right out, and you weren’t responding. I thought I- I thought you might have been hurt.”

“Oh. No, I’m fine. More than fucking fine.” He grins, shark teeth on proud display as he looks down at her, guides her head back up to look at him. “Must be something about the TV head getting overloaded. We’ll look into it so it doesn’t happen again, how’s that sound? Take it as a compliment this time.” She lays down beside him, head still resting on his chest and trying to calm her frantic breathing. He smoothes a hand down her hair, giving one of her ears a little scratch like his mom’s dog used to enjoy. “Really, I’m okay.”

She sighs, the exhale hot against his skin. “If you say so. Please let me know if anything starts to feel weird?”

“What are you, my nurse? I’ll be alright, don’t worry.” 

She’s quiet for a second and he thinks maybe he’s upset her until she says, “I was a nurse. Before Hell, I mean; just a general staff nurse, not anything crazy. But head injuries were always treated really seriously and I just- panicked, I guess.” She curls further into his wide, tail waving anxiously behind her. “Sorry.”

She hadn’t given him so much information about her life before Hell before- he figured she had done something in the medical field from the anatomy textbooks but this was the first time she had really been forthcoming with the information. “I’ll let you know if anything feels weird,” he promises her, and snakes a finger under her chin to tilt her face up to look at him. “Don’t apologize for, you know. Caring. Being you. There’s nothing wrong with that.” Her eyebrows scrunch and Vincent can’t resist the urge to tease her a bit. “Come on, where’s that post-orgasmic glow I was expecting? How’s a guy supposed to enjoy pillow talk with a pretty girl when she’s worried about the wrong head?”

She knocks her fist against said head but still laughs, the huff of her breath fanning across the expanse of his chest. “Idiot,” she says, but her tone is vaguely affectionate. “So, what do we do now?” She lets her fingers dance over the skin of his abdomen and his lower half twitches in interest.

If just one orgasm was enough to short circuit his head though, going for a second so soon was probably not the move. “We could shower,” he offers. “Though I suppose the pillow talk could still survive the blow to my ego. What made you come home early?”

Kora’s face pulls into a grimace. “Eris showed up- hours late, of course, but Viv said that since it wasn’t crazy busy I could go home at my normal time. Eris is great, of course, but her time management is just non-existent.” She gives him a sweet smile. “I take it you don’t usually touch yourself on the couch like that when I’m at work?”

“Not usually, no. But I-” His screen crackles with a faint static- his new brand of blushing, he supposed, which was only a bit embarrassing. “I might have noticed you stepping out of the shower in just your towel earlier. It might have made me a little crazy.”

Her laughter is a smooth, rumbling thing against his chest, almost more like a cat than a dog. “I’ll keep that in mind if I ever get an inkling to try and seduce you on purpose,” she says, and then she’s rolling away from him, sat on the edge of the bed and stretching her muscles, the flex of them subtle and strong. “Speaking of showers though, I’m going to take one.” She looks at him over her shoulder, eyebrow cocked playfully. “You could join me, if you want? Save a little water.”

At the renewed thought of her wet and naked, his dick throbs with interest- but fuck, he needed to have some semblance of control over himself when it came to Kora. “Trust me, doll, I want ,” he says, and delights in the pink that rises to her cheeks. “But I think my body needs a bit of a break- don’t want to go dark on you again, especially not in a wet environment,” he adds, knocking lightly on the side of his head. “Maybe since it's not too late though we could watch the news? I was looking forward to hanging out with you today before you got called in to Viv’s, we could still do something else. I can give you all the gossip going on down at the station?”

Her eyes crinkle with her smile. “I would like that. I’ll be quick- you could throw some popcorn on the stove?”

“Do you insist on adding that sickeningly sweet shit to it?”

“You know it.” With a wink she exits the bedroom, the rattling of the water through the pipes echoing through the bedroom a moment later. Heaving a sigh he sits up and gathers his clothing, pulling his boxers on and bringing everything to the living room to put in the bathroom hamper when Kora was finished. He washes his hands and gets the corn kernels out, throwing some onto a pan on the stove with some salt and a slab of butter. He can hear Kora singing softly to herself in the shower and feels the mouth on his screen quirk up on one side.

Kernels popping, he gets her little container of cinnamon and sugar out of the cabinet and splits the snack between two bowls, dumping some of the concoction on Kora’s portion when he hears the bathroom door open. He resists the temptation to glance down the hallway, instead switching the television in the living room on and switching to the evening news channel.

They’re just coming off commercial when Kora comes out of the bedroom, large t-shirt covering her frame and settling on the couch beside him, knees under her body to prop herself up a bit. But this time she’s not sitting a couple inches away like she had been the last couple weeks- their thighs are pressing together, close enough for him to feel her skin, to throw an arm over her shoulder if he wanted to. She takes her popcorn with a smile, laughing at the face he makes when she pops a couple pieces into her mouth. “You’ve never even tried it before,” she tells him, and throws a couple pieces into his bowl. “Give it a taste.”

Vincent sighs but still submits, tosses the pieces into his mouth along with a couple of his own. He has to admit that it’s good- a hint of salty with the sweet, its a tasty contrast in his mouth, as loathe as he is to give in to her. Instead of feeding her ego he simply grabs a handful from both of their bowls and swaps them so they both had a bit of each, and Kora’s laughter rings in his ears.

She listens to him rant about the newscaster for a bit- “fucking Richard , thinks he’s so goddamn cool because he gets to cover the late news when all of the interesting shit goes down. You think anyone would believe a word out of his shit mouth if they knew what I knew? This just in-” he lets a bit of old-timey static into his voice, a fun trick that he had learned, leaning forward like there’s a desk or a camera in front of him. “Big Shot Richard from Nine Rings News has been repeatedly spotted just begging for one of his PA’s to fuck him before the 3AM news flash, and cries like a little bitch when he tells him no!”  

She giggles, leaning further into his side to hide her face in his shoulder, and his heart thumps inside his chest. “You should get into news,” she tells him. “Richard is fine but you would really catch people’s attention I think- your head is even a TV, you’re just meant for people to watch you!”

He runs his hand down her spine even as he shakes his head. “I was a broadcaster on Earth,” he admits, honest with her like she had been with him earlier. “Worked at the news station like I do now but behind the desk- morning news though, not evening. I don’t know if I want to get back into that down here but maybe I’ll look into moving up the ranks. Ah fuck, here comes Joy Jagoff, you’re going to hate her-”

Hours pass, Vincent making Kora laugh with tales about the people at work, their popcorn supply dwindling, Kora’s head dropping fully against his shoulder when the late hour gets to her and she falls asleep on the couch with him. He debates moving her back to her own room, but decides against it- the temptation would be too strong, he thinks, to have her again, and despite how good that sounds he still figures he should give his body a rest.

Instead he repositions so he’s leaning back against his pillows, Kora held gently spread along the planes of his body. He pulls the blanket down from the back of the couch and covers the two of them, his screen blinking out while Joy Jagoff runs her mouth in the background, lulling him to sleep with the steady breathing of the woman sleeping on his chest.

🩵❤️🩵❤️🩵

Chapter 1 📺 Chapter 2 💛 Chapter 3 📺  Chapter 4  💛 Chapter 5

[sednonamoris]

pony up

Pairing: John Marston x gn!reader

Summary: John and Abigail continue to argue. You and Jack are both stuck in the middle, so you make the best of it by teaching him to ride.

Warnings: Toxic relationships, arguing, strong language

Word count: 1,464

A/N: Two chapters in one day - PHEW!! I have to say I’m pretty pleased with how this one turned out. If you didn’t catch my earlier post there will be a bit of a break between today’s updates and Ch. 15 so I can take a moment to read and rest and make sure the coming chapters are as good as they can possibly be. I feel like a broken record saying this but thank you all so much for your support!!!

Series masterlist • AO3

—

You take to the Heartlands like you were born to endless green and not the cracked desert of your youth. Valentine makes boasts of civilization, despite Hosea’s stance on its mud and morons, but the wilderness that surrounds it is what captivates you. Sprawling and wild. Half-tamed and raw. Unbroken. The chirping cry of the eagle and mournful bugle of the elk command a symphony in your soul that begs to be set free. Each night your heart stampedes the open plains with the wild horses, and each morning it returns when the songbirds first sing. 

Then the fighting starts.

“You ‘n me is one thing, but you could at least show up for the boy!” Abigail says this morning. 

“Jesus, woman, quit naggin’ me!” John snipes back. He’s supposed to meet you to go fishing. You have a feeling that might not happen.

“I ain’t naggin’! If you would just—”

“I don’t have time for this. Ghost and I—”

“I don’t wanna hear another goddamn word about Ghost!” she all but screams. You flinch, even over by the hitching posts as you are. “What about me, John? What about our son?”

John’s eyes go hard. “What about you?”

It’s a low blow, even for him, and the backhanded slap that hits his face a moment later is no great surprise to anyone.

What is surprising is that when Abigail marches away, she marches toward you. You shift a little in place but don’t run, much as you’d like to. She points an accusing finger and doesn’t stop until it jams into your chest.

“You—” she chokes past the tears in her eyes, but when she sees the look in yours she can’t finish the sentence.

Because what is there to say, really? That she would kill for John to spend as much time with her as he does with you? That she wishes he would wait out for her when she goes into town, or comes back from the creek with baskets full of laundry that he’ll help her carry home? You know that already. The same as she knows, deep down, that you’d give anything for him to look at you with that same want in his eyes when he sees her. To have him come to your bed every night and wake together every morning. And isn’t it just sad? And aren’t you just fools?

“You watch out for him out there,” she finishes lamely, and you grasp her hand that’s still on your chest and squeeze the apology that’s lodged in your throat. 

“Sure, Abigail. Take care.”

You let her go and she walks away, glaring at anyone who dares stare. John doesn’t say a word when you hand him his reins and head down to the river. 

— 

Days later, you’re sitting next to the fire enjoying a morning smoke with coffee strong enough to feel in your teeth. Pale, pre-dawn yellow streaks a sky marred only by your curling whisps of smoke. For once it is blessedly, blissfully quiet.

“Morning!” a bright voice chirps. 

You close your eyes and take a deep, calming breath before turning to snarl at them, only to be met with an unexpected face.

“Jack,” you say, trying not to sound surprised. Or mean. “Where’s your ma?”

It’s not that you dislike the kid, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t try to steer clear of him most of the time. Just seems better that way.

“She’s at the river. Reverend is supposed to play with me but he’s sleeping again.”

Fuck. Of course he is.

You look around to see if someone - anyone - is around who can watch him instead, but most folks have already headed into town, and the girls are surely with Abigail doing the washing at the river. Fuck. 

“Well, hey,” you fumble, “why don’t you ‘n me do somethin’ while we wait for him to wake up?”

“Really?” He sounds so excited. It breaks your heart a little.

“Really.” 

You’d been planning to ride out, maybe find a horse to fence, but instead you while away the morning playing every game imaginable with little Jack. He’s way too smart for you, listing off the wildest names you never heard of while you play pretend. You’re Penelope. Telemachus. Charybdis. He always gets to be Odysseus, who must be the hero. Then he wants to go hunting for bugs, so you dutifully lift rocks only for him to squeal when centipedes and beetles come creepy-crawling with all of their legs and pinchy parts. Then he tells you it’s your turn to pick something. You try to wrack your brain, but the only thing you can think to ask is if he knows how to ride on his own yet.

You smile when he says no.

“About time you learned, then.”

With a sweet chestnut Morgan who sometimes packs for you on hunting trips as a model, you take your time explaining how important it is to take proper care of your horse. How to brush with the grain of the hair. What every piece of tack does. You thought he might get bored, but the kid absorbs information like a sponge. He asks question after question, until finally he hits you with one you aren’t expecting. 

“Why are you called Ghost? Aren’t ghosts scary?”

“What,” you say, “I ain’t scary enough for you?”

He suddenly looks nervous, so you smile and ruffle his hair. 

“Relax, kid. I only scare bad guys and little shits who don’t mind their ma.”

“What’s a ‘little shit’?” 

You raise a brow at him. “Take a guess.”

He laughs. 

There’s just enough room at the edge of camp for you to work in, so under watchful eyes you let Jack lead the mare over. He’s terribly proud of himself. 

“Ready to mount up?” you ask, then don’t give him a moment to think about it before lifting him up and into the saddle.

He stares at you with wide eyes, scared and excited all at once. You remember the feeling. 

“Breathe, kid,” you remind him. “And get those feet in the stirrups. Sit deep. Shoulders tall.” You touch a hand to his stomach. “If you’re strong here, it’ll help you both balance. Less likely to fall.”

He nods, trying to do everything at once. He’s only halfway successful, but it will all come with practice. You lead the mare in between and around picketed horses, twisting and turning but keeping a steady pace. Every few strides you remind Jack to tilt his heels down, or square his shoulders. His little brow furrows with concentration. 

You don’t even realize how much time has passed until the sun sits high in the afternoon sky, and Abigail returns with the girls and baskets and baskets of laundry. 

“Reverend!” her shout rings through the clearing. “Where the hell is my son?”

“Over here, Mama!” Jack calls from atop his mount. 

He’s graduated to guiding the mare in circles off the lead, but you’re still close by. She’s being a wonderful sport about it, eyes half closed while she putters about barely registering the butterfly kicks her young rider gives. 

Abigail stops short when she sees you. Before she can say a word, Jack smiles and cheers for her attention to show off his new skills. He makes the mare turn left, then right, then beams over at the both of you.

“That’s,” Abigail starts, “Well, that’s real fine, Jack. Did you say ‘thank you’?”

“Thanks, Ghost!”

“Sure, kid. Any time.” 

The emotion that shines in her eyes is hard to place, but it brings a fragile smile to your face that she mirrors.

You help Jack down and he runs up to hug her skirts, smelling of sweat and horses, you’re sure. 

“Should Jack help cool her out?” Abigail asks.

You huff a laugh. The mare hasn’t broken a sweat. “I’ve got it. You two go on now.”

They turn to go, Jack racing off ahead, but Abigail stops and turns back. “Ghost?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.” There’s so much packed into those two words, years of misunderstanding trying desperately to heal the pretty blue hurt in her eyes. The desert cracks in yours. 

You tip your hat, nod in understanding, scared that if you try to speak no words will come. 

—

John finds you later.

“Heard you an’ Jack had fun today.” 

You cut your eyes at him but keep your head on straight at the shirt you’re mending. It’s a botch job, but at least the hole will be gone. “Sure. Good kid you got there.”

“Ain’t so sure he is mine.” His laugh is humorless. Caustic.

“Does it matter?”

He’s silent for a long moment before admitting on a sigh, “I don’t know anymore.”

You don’t either.

[rolloollor]

Abandoned Draft of an Unnamed Mallerollo Dragon Sacrifice Fic

This ended up not having enough conflict for my liking and it just fell flat. I personally don't think it's that great overall, though I can't show you more than the first chapter yet because I use a chunk of the second in the fic I'm currently working on. If people are still interested in seeing more after I post the newest longfic, then I'll share the rest.

This isn't polished, so temper expectations.

Rollo hissed as his captor tightened the ropes binding his arms behind his back. The rough material bit into his skin, promising blood if he struggled.

But it would flow regardless.

He knelt in the cold mud on the tallest hill near the village. The skies overhead were heavy with clouds. Flashes of heaven’s wrath illuminated the ground below for a handful of seconds each time, followed by sweeping explosions of sound.

Three elders—two men and one woman—stood before Rollo, facing the crowd seething at the base of the hill. The youngest of the three, a man with a permanently ruddy face and neck from drink, held up his hands. The mass of people quieted.

“Today marks the tenth full day of storming lightning,” he said, his voice quavering with age. “There is but one explanation for this. The dragon of Mt. Briar,” he paused, pointing to the jagged mountain on the horizon, “is displeased.”

Murmurs swept through the gathered villagers. Rollo glared at the elders’ backs. Dragon, indeed. No one standing here had ever been to Mt. Briar, let alone seen the monster in question.

“How, then, do we reclaim the sun?” asked the female elder, her gray braid shifting against her shoulders as she gesticulated. “We must sate the beast. Legends say that dragons delight in the flesh of humans with the curse of magic flowing in their veins.”

The oldest man, leaning on a gnarled walking stick, spoke next. “Many in our village have this curse. It is no threat, as long as one does not dabble in it. Most acknowledge the danger, the potential to go mad and ooze murky filth, and never make use of magic… They are our neighbors. Our friends. Our family.”

Rollo sneered. Was he not their neighbor?

A familiar, quivering voice came from the throng. “But… But Rollo has never handled magic.”

Valentin. A young man around his age, one who always seemed to find an excuse to meet with him. He had the spark, as well—trying to defend Rollo could come with significant consequences. If his line of sight wasn’t blocked by the trio of codgers, he might have given Valentin a sharp shake of the head.

The youngest elder grunted. “As far as we know, he has not. But I suspect he has. His brother could not resist the call, after all.”

Jehan.

Rollo’s stomach flipped. They had the audacity to bring up Jehan?

Once more, like they did every night as he tried to sleep, his piercing screams echoed in his head.

They had gone out into fields illuminated by the moon. Jehan had said he was going to show him something amazing, something he might never forget.

Magic. It had turned on him. Eaten him alive.

His younger brother, his only family, the person he had loved most in this world, reached a burning hand out to him. Rollo's heart thudded, each beat slamming against his ribs. The scent of seared flesh coated his throat. He couldn’t get enough air. He would drown in the middle of the field as Jehan's howls consumed the night.

He had not taken Jehan's hand.

Instead, the boy, barely nine, had charred, his skin flaking. His legs had turned to ash as his wails faded into gurgling moans. Then there was nothing but the crackling of endless flame.

Rollo had been rooted to the spot, staring at cinders, until someone stumbled upon them the next morning.

But that had been years ago. Rollo’s shoulders heaved with ragged breaths as he stared at the grass beneath him.

How dare they bring up Jehan? They understood nothing! None of them had seen his end with their own eyes. The pile of ash could not convey the horror of that night.

“Jehan didn’t lose his mind!” Rollo shouted. “No black fluids flowed from him—he died to out-of-control flames! His screams,” he paused, swallowing hard, “didn’t you hear them? Why did no one come to help? You let him die!”

A small, sharp voice whispered in his mind, “You didn’t take his hand. You stood there and you watched.”

Rollo grit his teeth. He was innocent! What could he possibly have done?

“Something. Anything. How betrayed Jehan must have felt to witness you do nothing.”

He was blameless! He’d had no options, no way to save him!

The female elder turned to look at Rollo, her eyes devoid of warmth. “You let your younger brother partake in magic. His blood is on your hands, not ours.”

Tears welled in his eyes. No. No, it wasn’t his fault. He had loved Jehan, who had been so excited about his magic trick…

“Rollo Flamme is a threat,” continued the female elder. “And the dragon needs a sacrifice.”

The codger with the walking stick nodded. “He is the best candidate. Unless someone wishes to take his place?”

Utter silence. Valentin did not speak up, but such was to be expected. Circumstantial friendship was not enough for someone to die in his stead.

Moisture climbed up his linen clothing from his knees. The elders directed a group to build a fire. Not to burn Rollo, but to create a smoke signal to try and communicate with the dragon. He peered at them. They were men and women he knew. They had offered condolences when his brother passed, shared food with him at festivals, and applauded his hard work tending to the goats.

To think he had lived among these people for twenty years and, at the first sign of trouble, they were more than happy to have him killed.

After he died in agony, they would live on, basking in the rewards his sacrifice had earned them. Would they feel even the slightest bit of gratitude?

With the elders busy with the fire, Rollo could now gaze out at the faces in the crowd, at people he had thought he had known. Valentin was conspicuously absent. Had he left to avoid seeing his end? Wise.

“Is the smoke signal ready?” the youngest elder asked. “We must hurry.”

A few men and women held a wet blanket over the bonfire they had stoked. After a moment of covering the blaze, they pulled back and allowed a ball of gray to erupt toward the sky.

Would the dragon notice such a flimsy method of communication? If it didn’t come, would they blame Rollo?

This was a lost cause. Even if there was a flying lizard that lived on Mt. Briar, what use would it have for him? If it didn’t accept him as an offering, it did not mean he could return to life as it had been. At best, they might exile him and he would fall victim to the wilderness. At worst, they could vent their frustrations with violence.

How dare they do this to him? Rollo didn’t deserve such a grisly end. Had he not dealt with enough in his life? Without his parents, he had done his best to raise himself and his younger brother, only to fail him. He had eked out a living as a goatherd, tending to animals he did not own and making just enough to keep himself from starving to death. And now they saw fit to subject him to this?

The world was cruel. The world was wicked.

There was no justice.

Loathing filled him, flowing through his veins, turning solid in his gut.

“What if it does not accept our… gift?” the female elder asked the others.

The man with the stick stroked an unkempt beard. Old, blurry eyes turned Rollo’s way. “The scent of blood,” he paused, sucking in air. “May entice it…”

Scalding contempt climbed up Rollo’s throat. They would snuff out his life for the mere chance of satisfying this entity none of them had ever seen.

No. He would tolerate this no longer!

Physically, he had no way to get out of his restraints. Magically… Well. He might immolate himself, but at least he would die by his own hand!

Neglected pathways within himself opened, allowing power to surge. These people needed to be cleansed. Their filth and antipathy would not wash away—something stronger was necessary. If they saw nothing wrong with leaving him for dead, then they deserved naught but the pyre!

Furious, greedy flames erupted from Rollo, engulfing his body and eating through the ropes. The crowd below screamed. Those tending to the smoke signals dropped their blanket and bolted. The elders shouted, demanding people remain calm. Rollo turned toward them.

The oldest yelped and stumbled backward. He toppled, rolling down the hill. His cane fell, but did not follow him.

Good. If he hadn’t perished from that, Rollo would finish him later. This fire of his did not hurt him and somehow did not turn his clothing to ash, so he had more than enough time. Before that…

He turned toward the remaining elders. Which one should he deal with first?

They jerked, eyes wide. The old woman held her arms out in front of her, as though she could defend herself from the blaze.

“Just like your miserable brother,” the male elder wheezed.

An easy decision.

Rollo lunged. The male elder tried to dodge, but his age made him slow and feeble. Rollo snatched his wrist, allowing his flames to scorch the weathered skin, turning it red, then black. The elder shrieked, his gummy mouth opened in agony.

But it was nothing like the pain Jehan endured—wayward magic had enveloped his small body and gnawed at him until all that was left of him was no longer human. Even this man’s cries were half-hearted in comparison. He deserved worse.

Everyone did. No one in this wicked village, this cruel world would escape his judgment.

Then the earth shook as though quaking with shared fury. Rollo wobbled where he stood, accidentally letting his prey go. Too ancient to keep themselves upright, the elders collapsed. The old man’s bellowing ceased.

The tremor stopped.

“Oh,” came a deep, booming voice. “A human.”

Rollo whirled around.

A reptilian behemoth stood on four legs. Translucent wings folded against his back, unnecessary for the moment. It bore dark colors and strange, thorn-like protrusions along its spine. Two shining horns and webbed frills approximating ears jutted out of its head. A long tail ending in three prongs whipped back and forth, cutting through the air. The dragon opened its maw, releasing a burst of green embers. Its teeth glistened in the dim light.

Rollo’s blood froze.

It was real. He was going to die.

The beast lowered its head closer to Rollo, allowing its horrible, pupilless gaze to bore into him.

“Stay back!” Rollo yelled, reaching out a hand to singe the dragon.

It blinked. “I am a dragon; fire does not frighten me.”

Slowly, its snout approached, radiating its own powerful heat. It brushed against Rollo’s torso and… sniffed at him like a dog. The hair on the back of Rollo’s neck stood on end. Unlike with the elder, his flames didn’t do anything to those hard scales.

“Hmm…” Its forked tongue flicked out of its mouth to taste the air. “You cannot maintain this level of magic for long without a magestone. Stop channeling, human, or you will lose yourself to blot.”

Blot? Was it referring to the muck that bled from mad mages?

But if that happened, would he not be better able to enact his judgment? He would be far more deadly.

A low rumbling sounded from the dragon’s throat. “If you refuse to obey my command, I will ensure you bow to my will by force.”

Something bore down on him, impossibly heavy. His legs crumpled and he found himself on his hands and knees in the mud, unable to push back against the mass of what could only be magic pressure. He grit his teeth.

The wildfire around him went out. Hazy smoke drifted off his limbs as the dragon relented, dropping the magic that had held him down. His body trembled as he heaved himself upright again.

“So you can still stand… Many fae would not rise, after that.” The dragon’s tail swished back and forth. “What an obdurate human. Tell me your name.”

Rollo took a raspy breath. Exhaustion pulled at every part of him, demanding he sleep. But that only made him even less enthused in speaking to this monster. “…Is it not rude to ask for someone’s name without giving your own?” he spat.

The dragon said nothing for a moment. “You… are correct, yes. I am called Malleus.”

Rollo huffed. “Rollo Flamme.”

“Flamme.” Malleus lifted its head and stared down his snout at Rollo. Above him, the clouds began to part, allowing rays of sunshine to reach through. “You are a threat to your fellow humans and should be dealt with as they see fit. And yet, I find myself intrigued…” It paused. “Rejoice, Rollo Flamme, for I will accept you into my household.”

What?

Accept him into—?

No, none of that made sense. This was some sort of ploy to get him to drop his guard so it could feast on his entrails.

“I have no interest in living with a dragon,” Rollo said, taking a step back.

“Oh? You would rather remain here?”

He frowned and glanced toward the remaining elder. The old man had fainted, no doubt overwhelmed by both the pain of his wounds and the presence of a dragon. The woman had not lingered.

There was nothing left for him in this place, not now that he had attacked someone. Still, it would be better to take his chances out in the forest than in a dragon’s clutches. He might be able to reach another village by morning if he started walking now. But they would discover what he had done, sooner or later…

“Why did you attack these humans?” Malleus asked, its massive face pointed at the unconscious elder. “With magic, no less… You are a such a violent species; it is a miracle some of you yet live.”

Rollo glanced about, looking for a path he could take if he decided to bolt. “They wanted to offer me to you as a meal.”

The dragon paused, his tail halting mid-swing. “…Hm. Well, all the more reason to bring you with me.” Malleus lifted itself onto its hindquarters. “Brace yourself, Flamme.”

Tension rooted Rollo’s body to the spot. Brace for what?

Before he could open his mouth, his sight failed him. Everything was pitch black, worse than a forest on a moonless night. Had that monster made him go blind? He reached out a hand only for his fingertips to collide with something impossibly smooth and curved. It was all around him—Malleus had put him in some sort of sphere.

“What is this?! Let me out!”

“Land-dwelling mammals do not tend to enjoy flight. I have heard they tolerate it better when they cannot see the ground.”

The darkness around him shook and his stomach dropped the way it might if someone larger lifted him into the air. Rollo’s legs gave out and he fell, solid darkness catching his body. The ascent abruptly halted. One side of the enclosure emanated heat as if Malleus now held the sphere against itself. Rollo flattened himself away from it.

“It will be a short flight,” Malleus said. “Home is not far.”

Then came the sound of beating wings and the nauseating sensation of going upward without any control. He had nothing with which to hold on, so Rollo ended up on the ‘floor’ again.

A dragon’s household. If nothing else, he was not dead yet. He could find a way out of this. The moment Malleus lowered its guard, Rollo would seek his freedom. Providing that was at all possible in the first place… He had never climbed a mountain before and had little idea as to what it entailed. Worse, he had nothing but the clothes on his back.

Malleus could fly, breathe fire, and conjure horrible containers to trap someone. How could he slip away from him unscathed?

There was a sudden dip downward, making Rollo’s gut do a flip. Weren’t they flying to the top of Mt. Briar?

Malleus settled on solid ground with a jolt. The temperature plummeted, the cold seeping into his skin. He hugged himself. His linen tunic was appropriate for summer or the hotter days of autumn, not a snowy mountain top.

“There, now we are home,” Malleus said.

The smooth sphere around him seemed to fade and suddenly Rollo was standing on frigid rock. Somewhere far above and half-obscured by rock, light hovered out of reach. It did little to help him see—at best, it revealed the outlines of some strange stone spires reaching upward toward the ceiling and down toward the floor. Malleus’ massive lizard-like form stood nearby, his green eyes somehow aglow, penetrating the darkness to stare directly at Rollo. Somewhere, water dripped, the noise faint but ever-present.

Rollo walked toward the fleeting glimpse of the sun and found a wall. He ran his fingers along it, finding damp, slippery moss clinging to it. It must have been taller than Malleus—impossible for Rollo to climb. But, at what must have been the mouth to this cavern, leaves sometimes waved along the edges. If he could just get up there…!

“Flamme.”

Rollo winced. He turned to face Malleus, whose head was mere handspans away from him. He jolted with a yelp.

“How skittish you are,” Malleus commented. He nudged Rollo with his snout. “You appear to be shivering.”

“Obviously,” he said through his teeth.

Malleus nodded. A moment later, warmth spread around Rollo, almost as though he had donned his clothing after they had dried in front of a fire. The chill still reached his face and hands, so the dragon must have made the fabric emanate heat.

“That should keep you comfortable for the time being. Now—”

An irritated rumbling came from his stomach and interrupted Malleus. The sound bounced around the walls, turning from something embarrassing to unsettling.

What if other creatures lurked in this cave?

Malleus tilted his great head. “You are hungry?”

“…Yes.”

“Hmm…” Claws idly scraped against the rock beneath them both. “What do you eat?”

Did the beast intend to fatten him up before eating him? Fine. If it left to acquire a meal, then Rollo could try to escape.

“Bread, mostly.”

Malleus blinked. “Bread?” it echoed as though the term was unfamiliar.

Indeed, what use would a dragon have for cooking or baking? Rollo sighed. “Fruits, vegetables, meat… Milk and cheese.”

“Not leaves? Bark?”

Did it think humans ate like goats or deer? “…No.”

Malleus huffed, a puff of smoke leaving its mouth. “Then I must go and find meat for you. Wait here for my return.”

In one motion, it hopped up the wall blocking Rollo from the entrance and, at the top, spread its wings, the span as wide as Malleus was long. Without the least bit of hesitation, Malleus leapt into the air. It disappeared out into the world, leaving Rollo alone.

Rollo examined the moss-covered barrier again—it was utterly smooth, with nothing for him with which to hold on. He scratched at it, seeking any kind of purchase, and gained only grit beneath his nails. Damn! He slammed his fist against it. The outside world was within sight, but beyond his reach!

That left him with one option. Rollo gazed into the depths of the cave, his heart sinking. Could there be an exit on the other side?

There was no time to waste—his life depended on his next action. He had already faced death more than once within the span of an hour or so. This time, he had control over his fate. He could wait for the dragon’s return or he could try his luck looking for a way out.

In truth, there was but one option.

Gritting his teeth, Rollo stepped into the darkness.

[drama-rebellion]

The Outpost

(A short story about a lesbian couple in the army of Ancient Rome that has to fight for the freedom of their love… also posted on Wattpad (@Caleteya) Every note or comment means a lot to me. Enjoy!)

The night was cool and quiet. Stars sparkled in the clear sky and the lights of the nearby village flickered over the horizon. Marami yawned, she had been on shift for hours, but pushed the tiredness aside. Despite everything seeming calm, they were still in the middle of a conflict that could easily turn into war. She straightened up and searched for any sign of intruders.

She heard the steps behind her, but didn’t move. Then two hands suddenly covered her eyes. “Who am I?”a fake voice asked her from behind. Marami sighed.

“If I didn’t know who you are, you’d be dead now”, she replied and it was the truth. No one was able to sneak up on her. She pulled the fingers from her face, before turning around. Another guard faces her. Perfect uniform, the hair strictly braided and a bright smile on her lips. Marami really thought, Amra was one of the happiest and positive persons she had ever come to know and also the most beautiful. Luckily she was her girlfriend.

Shortly she checked her surroundings, but they were alone on that part of the wall, so she bent over for a kiss. Amra folded her hands behind Marami’s neck and smiled even brighter.

“Good morning to you too”, she said very close to her face.

“Morning already?”, Marami had lost track of time while standing watch, but the night was still black and didn’t show a sign of dawn.

“Yes, 3 am. I just stood up. Shift change.”

Marami moaned looked at the sprinkled sky above her for a second. She would rather face the tiredness for some more hours if that meant to spent time with her love.

“She’s really gonna go through with this, isn’t she?”

Now the smile on Amra’s face faded. She stepped on to the railing and leaned her forearms on it.

“Looks like it. She made sure we are never on duty at the same time.”

“Yes, but this has been going on two weeks now. It’s ridiculous”.

Her girlfriend laughed.

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have slept with your boss in the first place.”

Marami folded her arms offensively.

“That was months ago! And it was over months ago, long before I started seeing you, you weren’t even stationed here yet at that time. It just wasn’t…” she searched for the right words, “official yet.”

“But instead of telling her you moved forward into a new relationship, you let it slide and her catch us having sex. Sorry, but I’d be pissed too, if you did that to me. She went easy on us with separate shifts. She easily could have sent us two different parts of the realm.”

“I know. You are right.”

It was a very difficult situation. For a few weeks half a year ago she had started a relationship with general Tamre, more out of curiosity than actual feelings. After only a month they stopped seeing each other, but never exactly broke up. Now Marami had to pay for that.

But she understood the general. She had felt real love for her, as she had told her many times and now had to watch the girl of her dreams walking into the sunset with someone else. Must hurt like a bitch.

They two women were so in thoughts, they didn’t hear a guard coming up the ladder. He looked from one to the other, shook his head and while passing by, he whispered:

“If the General sees you together, you are dead.”

The man walked over to his post without another word.

“He is right. Get out of here before the rest of the morning shift is here”, Amra rushed her, kissed her on the forehead and basically pushed her down the latter.

When Marami hesitated, she made wild hand gestures.

“Go! I come to you later, when I see an opening. Go!”

With another sigh, the other woman obliged and made her way through the outpost.

It wasn’t big, one of many out here on the dormant front. Build in a hurry and home to about two thousand men and two hundred riders, plus workers, doctors, slaves and other personal that was needed to keep this place from falling apart.

It had rained a lot the last days and the ground had turned into one big puddle of mud. With every step it splashed up to her knees and soaked her boots.

The quarters were all close to each other, but as part of their punishment, the general had re-ordered Marami and Amra, so they were as far apart as possible. Although she understood the woman, that move was just childish.

On her way to her room she didn’t look anyone in the eye and ignored all the whispers that arose, as soon as she passed by.

Once undressed and wrapped in her blanket, listening to the noise from outside, she wondered again what had been worse. Being stigmatized as a cheater or having to live apart from Amra.

When she was still seeing Tamre, nobody said a word. She was the general after all and it was no secret that she preferred women. Also when Marami came out, right at the beginning of her carrier, when the approaches from men just annoyed her, it wasn’t a problem either. Sure, sometimes people would make jokes about it, but she never cared.

But now she wasn’t only gay, she betrayed the general too and that woman was loved by all. She was from the very south, her skin almost black, intriguing eyes. With her skill and determination, she had worked her way up the food chain in only a few years and was not likely to stop before she became empress somehow. Maybe this incredible thirst for power and success was the thing that Marami eventually drove away.

Amra was completely different. Skilled indeed, but always jolly and sometimes acting childish. People often thought, she was naïve and didn’t recognize the seriousness of some situations, but Marami knew better. Her girlfriend was a life-saver on the battlefield and very well understood the brutal reality, she had witnessed it herself. She just decided not to let the world darken her mood. Marami loved her for that.

Before she fell asleep, she thought again about the mess she had made and how to ever solve it.

Amra didn’t visit her after her shift. Probably she hadn’t found a way to sneak in. They first saw each other at lunch, again from two different sides of the table.

The general could separate them, but not forbid them looking at each other. And they did. All the time, with everyone watching. But at least nobody commented on that. The first day after the news got out, there was no different topic, but now it wasn’t all that interesting anymore.

The day went excruciatingly slow, but there was a short window in between, when they both had time off. It was late in the afternoon, so very hard to find the right time and place to meet up without being seen. Mostly they ended up in the stables. They had a secret spot behind some hay bales. It was warm and cozy, enough to get rid of their clothes, but they had to be quiet, which wasn’t always easy. But the doors creaked extremely loudly and hence worked like an alarm, so they could always stop, before getting discovered.

Now they just laid there, covered in sweat and totally relaxed. These were their precious moments of peace.

Amra drew circles on Marami’s breast with her fingertips. She seemed to be deep in thoughts.

“What is it?”

She took a while to answer.

“Nothing, really. Just thinking.”

“What about?”

“Us. How this will work out. If it will work out at all.”

Now Marami pushed herself up on her elbows to have a better look at her girlfriend.

“Are you breaking up with me?” she asked concerned.

Now the other woman smiled again.

“No, of course not. But I think you need to speak to Tambre.”

Marami sighed deeply.

“And say what? Sorry, I fucked you over and hurt your feelings. Can you please give me my girlfriend back that I love more than I have ever loved you?”

“Ouch”, Amra shook her head, “better not like this.”

“Well, it’s the truth.”

“Hmh.”

Marami decided to change the subject.

“Are you excited about your big day?”

“It’s not a big deal”

“Of course it is! You deserve this position.”

The two women were both legionnaires, common soldiers, but Amra had real talent as a leader. People listened to her. Since the old cunturio, who commanded eighty men, retired a few days ago, his successor had not been named yet, only a preliminary replacement until the new one was publicly announced tomorrow. Amra was the obvious choice for a long time now.

“Do you really think, the general is gonna reward me after everything that happened?”

Marami shook her head.

“Don’t be silly. Tambre might not like you, but she is not stupid.”

“Not like me? Sweetheart, that woman hates me with all her being, probably even more than she hates you.”

“I don’t think so”, she disagreed.

“Oh well, I’ll first believe it when I hear it.”

Marami kept quiet. Truth was, she was worried indeed that her relationship had a negative impact on both of their carriers. She had been wondering about how to address the matter with the general for days now, but just couldn’t think about a good way to solve this dilemma.

“We should get dressed. It’s getting late”.

“I don’t want to.”

“Neither do I”, but Marami still got up and picked up her clothes. After they had put their uniform back on, they stood very close for a while. Marami picked straws of hay out of her ruffled hair. As if that could cover up the obvious fact of what they had been doing.

“You look beautiful”, she said quietly and meant it with all her heart.

“So do you”, and they kissed for some very long seconds.

The sound of the door interrupted them and they ducked quickly behind the bales.

Muffled voices and hoof beats of multiple horses sounded through the stable. Probably a groom, who took care of the curriers’ horses. They were sent out daily on routine rounds, scouting the area.

Seemed to took forever until they heard the horse move onto the straw which was used as bedding, then the jingling of tack that was taken away. The door closed again.

Cautiously the two women left their hiding place and left through two different doors, not before exchanging one last kiss. Who knew, when they had the chance to be this close again.

The next morning, all foot soldiers stationed at this outpost, who were not on guard duty, or else occupied, gathered in the large square in the middle of the fort. They were the backbone of every army.

A lot of things were said. About small changes in the daily routine, guard rotation, supply arrangements, so everything in this outpost went smoothly like clockwork.

Finally, the old centurio Julian was called forward and the general addressed him directly. Marami had to admit that she looked astonishing in her armor, red cape and blinking breast plate. After the man received his salary and a small treasure chest, he was bid farewell and all soldiers stomped with their feet. He would return to his family and live out the rest of his day in peace.

Once it went silent again, the general loudly called the name of the successor.

It wasn’t Amra’s.

Instead a bulky guy named Sinay stepped forward. He was skilled with a sword, but an asshole and always bullying the newbies. Marami couldn’t believe, Tambre chose him over Amra. This clearly wasn’t an example for a wise choice, but for simple nastiness.

While the man walked to the front, the eyes of the general met hers and her triumphant smile said everything.

Marami had to pull herself together to not scream out in outrage. She had still to respect this decision. Protesting now would only get her into trouble. She tried to get a look at Ambra, but she stood too far away and was hidden away behind other soldiers.

Impatiently Marami waited the induction ceremonie to be over. Nausea crept up her stomach, when Sinay saluted in front of the masses, a wide grin on his face. The tribunes and the legatus outranked him still of course, but he behaved like he had just been named emperor.

And now Marami and Amra even had to answer to him. It was not fair!

He would savor the opportunity to torture them every day.

After the soldiers got dismissed, Marami hurried to catch up to Amra, who quickly walked away towards the stables, but not the one with their hiding spot.

The woman didn’t care if anyone saw them, she ran after her girlfriend and laid a hand on her shoulder.

“Wait!”

Amra faced her with disappointment written all over her face.

“I told you, she wouldn’t choose me.”

Marami just hugged her and whispered in her ear.

“I am so sorry. That’s all my fault. If I had just been honest with her in the first place, none of this had happened.”

They separated and Amra brushed away a few tears. Although she didn’t admit it, she had looked forward to this promotion.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it. Even if you two had officially broken up sooner, she’d still hate me for being with you now.”

Maybe she was right about that, but Marami still felt guilty.

“I will fix this. I promise.”

“How?”

“I will talk to Tambre. Today”, she said determined.

“I don’t think it’s any use. You will only make things worse”, Amra seemed really designated.

“But…”

“I wanna be alone now for a while, okay?”, the woman said and left, her shoulders drooping.

Marami followed her with her eyes. She felt so lost. She needed to fix this. She just had to figure out how. In thoughts she walked away as it started to rain. .

Marami breathed deeply before she knocked. Her heart beat loudly in her chest.

It took a few seconds, then the familiar voice answered.

“Enter”

The soldier stepped through the door and closed it quietly behind her. She had to overcome herself to look the other woman in the eyes. She sat behind her desk, a pile of papers in front of her. It was the first time they were alone since the incident of Tambre catching them in the act.

Hesitantly Marami stepped closer, saluted and then folded her hands behind her back.

“What do you want?” Tambre asked coldly, making her feel most unwelcome. Her dark skin, the long black hair and the mesmerizing eyes that scurried over the letters, reminded Marami, why she once got involved with her in the first place. Her aura was literally pulsating.

“I came to speak to you”, she answered with dry voice. Now that she was here, she seemed to have forgotten everything that she had planned to say.

“I figured. Since you are talking to me”, Tambre stated.

Marami pulled herself together.

“May I speak freely?” she asked, although this act of respect in front of the general felt somehow ridiculous, they had seen each other naked after all.

“If you must”. Tambre interrupted her writing and looked right at her, waiting.

Marami swallowed and scraped all her bravery together.

“Not promoting Amra, because of our personal issues is foolish. She is one of the best of her class, she is fluent in the language of the folk, she knows the terrain and is an excellent fighter. She deserves this post and you know it.”

“Our personal issues? You think that’s what this is? You betrayed me!” anger vibrated through her voice.

“Why else wouldn’t you promote her?”

“Others were just as qualified.”

“Oh, you mean Sinay, that dimwit? He’s mean, disrespectful and a drunk. You can’t seriously tell me, he’s a better fit than Amra.”

“I have my reasons. Now get out!”

Marami didn’t move. Not before she had said the most important thing.

“Listen, I am sorry about what happened between us. I made a mistake.”

For a few seconds the general didn’t answer, just looked at her with sorrow.

“So that’s what I am to you? A mistake?”

“No! That’s not what I meant. I meant…” she searched for the right words. Why was this so hard?

“I mean, you have a very important job and are so focused on that, so driven and engaged, I just felt your carrier was more important to you than me. Amra is different, she doesn’t take things so seriously, she is open and friendly”, she regretted the last sentence before it left her mouth.

“So now I am not just too ambitious, but obnoxious and mean as well?” the sadness behind these words was unbearable.

“No, that came out wrong. I…”

“It’s fine, you don’t have to say anything more.”

“But…”

Tambre lifted a hand as a sign to be silent.

“You really wanna know why I separated you two?”

Marami nodded, although she believed she knew the answer already.

“It’s not because I am evil, or because you chose someone else than me. It’s because I love you. You were the love of my life and it hurts me too much to see you with Amra. How happy she makes you, gives you all the things I couldn’t give you. I am not mad at you, I am mad at myself and no day goes by that I don’t ask myself, if you would have stayed when I had done things differently. But it’s too late for that now.”

Marami was speechless. Tambre quickly went back to her papers, tears sparkled in her eyes.

“I am so sorry”, the other woman whispered.

“It’s fine, just go.”

Everything had been said and so Marami left, but called back right when she reached the door.

“I will put you back on shift with Amra and you can move together in the quarters again. But please, keep your luck out of public.”

It sounded so terribly sad and heartbroken that Marami shortly thought about refusing, but then remembered that this was the whole reason for her coming in the first place.

“Thank you”, she said honestly and had to ask: “what about the promotion?”

“Don’t push it, Marami”, the general replied angrily, “after all, someone has to torture you if not me”, she showed a small, vicious smile. Marami nodded as sign that she understood. She hadn’t expected anything else. Despite that, she had to laugh once outside.

The biggest problem was solved. Also they were two very strong and capable women and wouldn’t let Sinay bully them, no matter his rank.

With lively steps and a lot less weight on her shoulders, Marami went to look for Amra to tell her the good news.

Even the sun had finally broken through the thick blanket of clouds.

Everything would be alright, Marami was sure of it.

[respectfulkitfistosimp]

Vow to Peace

A Ahsoka Tano x reader fanfic PT4 masterlist

Ahsoka looked at you with a fondness no one ever felt for you. Her gaze felt like honey, thick and sweet, as it poured on everyone of your features, and like a thirsty bee, you drank it, even bathed in it for that is all you had ever wanted. All your life you had been taught that wanting something like that was wrong, but if that were true why did this feel so right? Why did her eyes full of what you could only describe as love pierced your core to then engrave themselves in the deepest parts of your mind? And why did they leave such a sweet trail to it? It felt blasphemous, yet at the same time right, to look at her the same way, you wanted to share the blame of such a delicious sin so your hand found it's way on top of hers, only for it to be returned. You were in absolute bliss, you felt like you were resting in a bed made out of clouds with the very woman you now knew that you loved, and from the way she was looking at you, Ahsoka loved you as well. Both of you kept quiet, for there was no need for words, and instead allowed your bodies to show without shame just how much they desired for the other. Her calloused hands ended in your hips, bringing you closer, and yours held her cheeks softly as if she was made out of glass. First you rested your forehead against her in case she didn't want this, but after a couple of agonizingly slow second you pulled her close until finally her tempting lips claimed their rightful place on every single one of your nerves, numbing you to whatever else was going on outside, after all nothing else mattered.

It wasn't just that one kiss, there were many more that came afterwards, each one ending somewhere else on your body or hers, the trail that they left made your skin tingle all the way until the morning after when you woke up with her nude body resting on top of yours. When you first woke up you were afraid that such a sweet night had only been a part of your subconscious, yet feeling her warmth against you all doubts left you. In their wake, however, a path of fear for what the future might bring for the both of you and for the insecurity that one day you two might be separated made their bitter way to you. You bit your lips in discontent and chose to instead look at Ahsoka, she wore a soft expression while one of her cheeks rested on top of your chest, then you looked around you to the multiple bottles of alcohol resting on every surface. You stopped your contemplation when you felt her shift and slowly wake up, it was a wish come true to be the very first thing she looked at after she woke up and the smile she gave you easily ascended your soul.

—g'mornin—Ahsoka said softly with a rough tone before yawning, you moved your hand to her montrals and ran it thru them.

—Good morning, if you allow me to get up I will make breakfast for the both of us—you said in a whisper, Ahsoka only moved after a big sigh and you got up to the kitchen.

Luckily there was no one on the ship to question the stupid smile plastered on your face, and as you finished preparing the tea cups and setting them in a tray you couldn't help but think about her, about how a gurgling feeling moved around in your insides, leaving a viscous trail everywhere it touched. Around your heart you felt something aching to a chain connect the both of you, the only difference is that yours suffocated the organ and the links of it, red hot, left their imprints on it. Yet it wasn't as bad as described, or at least it could be worse, the weight of the need to protect her from everything and everyone could be crushing you, it could impair your walking as it manifested into cannon balls tied around your ankles, yet still, despite how bad it actually was, you were willing to experience it all of it was for the sake of her safety. Should someone peep into your mind in this moment and the only thing they could get out of it were the abhorrent acts you would commit just to maintain her happiness.

A liquid running thru your fingers stopped your train of obsessive thoughts. The metal mug you held in your hand was deformed in the shape of your hand. You stared at it in a mixture of horror and amusement, like detailed before, your physical strength was below average at best for a force sensitive person, so while you kept staring at you hand you couldn't help but feel worried, these emotions you felt weren't right, I mean, what if instead of being a mug or any type of cutlery it was Ahsoka's hand you broke? Immediately your started making a new batch yet worried thoughts couldn't escape your mind.

Such strength could only mean one thing: you were turning to the dark side since it was impossible for you to be this strong with the side your had always been on, yet the idea of it wasn't all that farfetched, after all not even the chosen one could witness such a traumatic event as the purge was and even live on a sith temple for years and not fall. "Falling to the dark side" was, at first, not a common theme of discussion within the temple, at least not one to speak about outside of your room with your most trusted friend, yet when the war started it slowly became more popular and, for some reason, you always ended up in the right place to hear such conversation; speaking from complete ignorance, people said that falling felt like being burnt alive, or like you were drowning, even if none of them had ever experienced it they had a million and one ways of describing it and all of them had one thing in common, it was painful. You didn't think that was the case though, you had always thought that it wasn't something that would happen from one second to the other, from what you had seen it probably took years for someone to completely fall and unless pointed out they probably never even realized it, after all, one never notices that they have gone mad until someone else tells them, and even then they might not even believe it. Still, such a thing couldn't be happening to you, for if that was the case then very person you spent the night with would have noticed.

—What's taking you so long?—distracted by Ahsoka's voiced you looked at her, she was leaning on the doorframe as she watched you.

—I—you paused for one second to decide whether to tell her or not but ultimately deciding not to—I was distracted and got the sugar confused with the salt—you lied, a lie so simple it would go right past her.

Ahsoka's laugh echoes in the hallways and kitchen.

—Some times you can be such an airhead—you feigned a blush of shame and walked up to her with both mugs—let's go to bed already, the ship's cold—she rubbed her hands on her shoulders to prove a point and as she hurriedly walked to the room you followed behind her.

She covered you first with the sheets and then her, in the middle of both you placed the mugs.

—Do we not have a job today?—you asked, scared that something would stop this dream you were in.

—Not today—Ahsoka reassured you—the Force as been stagnant lately, don't you feel it too?—you nodded even though it wasn't the case—when it feels like that it's better to take some time off, to meditate and recenter yourself. It's easy to loose oneself, especially after all we've been thru, so you have to be very careful.

You agreed with her and was also relieved that you infact hadn't started to fall to the dark side. The remainder of the day you spend it with her, from meditations to naps neither of you wanted to leave the other and so, even though you always came back to what had happen in the morning you didn't care too much about it, even if it was something serious you would procrastinate today and think about it tomorrow.